


A Spell of Absence

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Girl Genius
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the students at Unseen University try to summon a demon.  Unfortunately, they actually end up summoning Agatha, Zeetha, Violetta, Mr Wooster, Dimo and Krosp (oh, and the weasel, but that should probably go without saying).</p><p>It falls on Ponder Stibbons to try to get them safely back.  It would really help if he had a clearer idea where they came from in the first place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unseen University

“Mr Stibbons! Mr Stibbons, sir!”

Ponder Stibbons woke blearily from a confused dream in which someone had been trying to batter his door down, only to find that, from the sound of it, someone was. “All right, all right, I'm awake,” he called, wondering if it was quite true. “Give me a moment, will you?”

He unhooked his dressing gown from the back of the door, since it was too cold to be standing around in a nightshirt. He slipped into it, unbolted the door, and stared up into the anxious face of Adrian Turnipseed, his best student.

“There had better be a very good reason for this,” he said. Ponder was not normally the severe kind of wizard, but anyone would be a little sharp when woken between half past four and five in the morning.

“There is, sir,” said Adrian. “I wouldn't go waking you up unless I really had to. It's just that... er... we... we've summoned...”

Ponder's eyes grew very wide. “Are we dealing with something from the Dungeon Dimensions here?”

“Oh, no, sir. Nothing like that,” Adrian assured him. “Otherwise, I'd have gone straight to Mr Ridcully. No. It's just that... you know HEX has been asking for an upgrade, and you said he was already so advanced we'd need to summon a demon to do that?”

“That... was meant to be a joke, Adrian,” said Ponder, his heart sinking. “Do you mean to tell me you have actually gone and summoned a demon?”

“Well, no, not a demon, as such,” Adrian replied. “That is to say, sir, we tried to summon a demon, but we think something must have gone wrong somewhere, because in fact, sir, we actually summoned...”

“Out with it,” said Ponder, with a sigh. “Who, or what, have you just summoned?”

“Um. Three young ladies with rather unusual hair, two gentlemen... well, that is to say, one of them's probably a gentleman, but he's not human exactly; oh, and a talking cat who's in an exceptionally filthy mood. And an eight-legged weasel.”

“You appear to have been busy,” said Ponder drily.

“I just don't understand what went wrong!” Adrian wailed. “We checked everything through HEX before we ran the spell. I don't see how it can have had any bugs in it.”

“I'd better come and have a look,” said Ponder wearily. “Young ladies, you say? I had better get properly dressed first. Wait a moment.”

He disappeared back inside his room, and emerged in a minute or two fully clad in the approved wizard fashion, complete with cloak and pointy hat. All right, the cloak was getting a little scruffy these days, but it was still warm, and that was really the important thing at the moment. The echoing stone corridors of Unseen University could be pretty draughty in the middle of winter.

He followed Adrian through some of these corridors, and then down the path to the High Energy Magic Building, where, as always, there were still lights burning. They hurried upstairs, not to the actual lab where HEX was kept, but to an adjacent one which was quite large and therefore reserved for experiments which required a lot of space.

Such as, for instance, summoning demons.

There were, indeed, five people and a cat inside the magic circle in the centre of the lab. Ponder could not actually see the weasel, but, since the five people were of necessity standing fairly close together, he assumed it must be in there somewhere. The cat was the one who attracted his attention first; it was white, it was standing quite comfortably on its hind legs, and it was wearing a red military-style jacket. Then there were the three young ladies, and Ponder saw exactly what Adrian had meant about their hair; one was the brightest strawberry blonde he had ever seen, another had a short unruly burgundy thatch, and the third had long, luxuriant, emerald green hair. As for the gentlemen... well, yes, indeed, the more substantially built of the two was certainly not human, whatever else he was; he had green skin, golden eyes and an unnerving set of fangs, and he looked as though he badly needed a shave. The other gentleman, who was taller and thinner, was young, well-dressed, dark-haired, and distinctly worried-looking.

Yes, thought Ponder. I'd be worried, too.

He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Er. Welcome to Unseen University. I'm Ponder Stibbons. I must, ah, apologise. It appears that my students have inadvertently, er, disturbed you.”

The lady with the golden hair spoke. “I'm Agatha Heterodyne. Don't you think it might be polite to let us out of your force field before we start with the introductions?”

“It's actually a magic circle,” said Ponder.

She rolled her eyes behind her round glasses. “I don't care what you call it. Things are getting a bit too... what you might call up close and personal in here.”

“Hy hope hyu iz not sayink hy need a bath, Mistress,” said the green gentleman, suddenly looking even more worried than the dark-haired young man.

“That would so not hurt,” said the green-haired lady.

Ponder relaxed. Whoever the green gentleman with the fangs was, he probably wasn't a demon. Demons, in his experience, did not tend to be concerned about whether their standards of personal hygiene might be bothering anyone. “Adrian,” he said, “can you let them out? I think they're human. Mostly.”

Adrian did something with his hands and muttered something under his breath, and everyone stepped outwards with some relief. “Right,” said Agatha. “Unseen University, you say? Where is that, exactly?”

“It's in Ankh-Morpork,” replied Ponder, astonished. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“It's in what?”

The dark-haired young man held up a hand. “I think perhaps we might have the introductions first,” he suggested, “before we start trying to work out exactly where we are. It will help. Lady Heterodyne has already introduced herself. This is Zeetha daughter of Chump, who is a Princess of Skifander. This is Lady Violetta...”

“Just Violetta, please,” interrupted the burgundy-haired lady. “I prefer not to stand on ceremony, if you don't mind, Wooster.”

“My apologies. This is Dimo, this is Krosp, and my name is Ardsley Wooster.”

“Zeetha... daughter of...? I'm not sure I quite caught that,” said Ponder.

“You did,” replied Zeetha. “Say what you like about Wooster, there's nothing wrong with his diction. Yes, I know what it means in your language.” She glared.

“Which is actually very interesting,” said Agatha, “because, when you think of it, here we are in a place we've never even heard of, and there's therefore no apparent reason why we're all speaking the same language in the first place.” She turned to Mr Wooster. “At least, I say we've never even heard of it, but you seem to be a mine of information. Have you heard of Ankh-Morpork?”

“Never,” he replied.

“But it's the largest city on the Disc!” Ponder spluttered. “How can you possibly not have heard of it?”

The newcomers exchanged glances. “On the... Disc?” asked Mr Wooster carefully.

“Yes. The Disc.”

“What Disc, exactly?” asked Agatha.

“How many Discs do you think there are?” asked Ponder, a little wildly.

“We weren't aware of the existence of any,” said Violetta. “At least, not with places on them.”

“You're quite sure you're not strange eldritch beings from another dimension?” asked Ponder.

“Vot sort of eediot qvestion iz dot?” Dimo demanded.

“Yeah,” said Krosp, from knee level. “Walks around in a hat like that and wants to know if we're strange.”

“Ja, but... hyu iz a talkink cat,” Dimo reminded him. “Dot is a liddle veird ven hyu not used to it.” He paused. “Anyvay, iz a goot hat.”

“I am absolutely certain we are not eldritch,” said Mr Wooster.

“Yeah,” said Zeetha. “I mean, look at Wooster there. He couldn't do eldritch if he tried. If he were a ghost, he'd come and ask permission before he haunted you.”

“Well, really, I should hope so, indeed,” replied Mr Wooster. “It would be exceedingly impolite to do otherwise.”

Ponder was not entirely sure which of them was teasing which. “All right, so... where do you come from, then?”

“Well,” said Agatha, “I think I must have been born in Mechanicsburg. But it isn't on any Disc, so I expect you won't have heard of it.”

“No, but that's a wonderful name for a place,” said Ponder. “If it's not on a disc, then where is it?”

“It's on a planet,” replied Agatha. “We call it Earth. But then, I suspect that doesn't tell you much, because if there are people on other planets I suspect they all call them Earth, or the equivalent.”

“I suppose you haven't heard of Skifander either?” asked Zeetha hopefully.

Ponder shook his head. “No. Sorry. When you say a planet...?”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” said Krosp impatiently. “Planet. You know. Large spherical thing that goes round the sun.”

“Spherical...? Oh! You mean like Roundworld?” He saw their blank stares, and added hastily, “Little experimental project we've got on at the moment. We built a sort of mini universe.”

Agatha's eyes lit up. “You did? Oh, wow! I have to see that!”

“Ah,” said Ponder. “I would have to see if I could arrange permission from the Archchancellor for that.”

“Vot hyu not said yet iz vy ve here,” said Dimo. “Hy get der idea ve veren't who hyu vos expectink. Hokay. So vot _vos_ hyu tryink to do?”

“We were just trying to summon a demon,” Adrian quavered.

“It's the use of the word 'just' there that I find a little unnerving,” said Violetta.

“Well, we _are_ wizards, madam,” said Adrian.

“Clearly not very good ones,” Zeetha retorted.

“They're students,” said Ponder quickly.

“I suppose that would be why they thought it was a good idea to try to summon a demon, unsupervised, in the middle of the night,” said Krosp sourly. “So. How about sending us back now?”

“Ah... well... yes, naturally, I'll do that as fast as I can,” said Ponder, “but I should warn you it may take a little while. I'm going to have to work out exactly where you came from in order to get you back there, and that may not be easy.”

“Well, it had better happen fast,” said Zeetha, “otherwise you'll be dealing with me. Agatha's got to save Mechanicsburg, and she's not going to be able to do that from here.”

“I suppose there's nothing I could do to help?” asked Agatha.

“It's magic, not science,” replied Violetta sombrely. “It wasn't an experiment that went wrong. It was a spell.”

“Yeah, but it's still looking like some kind of interdimensional anomaly,” said Agatha, frowning a little. “And if I can work out exactly what it is, then the scientific approach might reap dividends.”

Ponder brightened. “You're a scientist?”

“Oh, _yes,”_ said Agatha, enthusiastically.

“Wonderful! Then you may be able to give us a hand with HEX while you're here. He's our... thinking engine.”

“Having a thinking engine on the case might not be such a bad idea,” she mused.

“Lady Heterodyne.” It was Mr Wooster, who had clearly been thinking very hard. “I believe that, wherever exactly we are, the rules are not quite those to which we are accustomed. To begin with, magic clearly works here. I think it would be a very good idea to find out a little more about the underlying structure of this... dimension, or universe, or whatever exactly it is, before any of us starts attempting to do anything scientific in it. Especially, if I may say so, sparkishly scientific.”

“That's sound thinking, Mr Wooster,” said Agatha.

“This is a university,” he said to Ponder. “Therefore, presumably, you have a library?”

“Yes, of course,” said Ponder.

“Then would you mind taking us to it, please?”

“Certainly,” Ponder replied. “You may find it a little... unusual, but don't worry. The Librarian will look after you.”

Zeetha looked at Violetta. “Agatha can't come to any harm in a university library, can she?”

“No, probably not,” replied Violetta. “Especially since nobody's going to know who she is here. And, in any case, she's got Wooster. Just try keeping _him_ out of any library that's around.”

“Und me,” said Dimo. “Hy vill hang around outside und deal vit anyvun vot vants to come in und make trouble.”

“Yeah, actually, how did you get here in the first place?” asked Zeetha.

“Hy vos on der roof,” Dimo explained.

“Of... the train?”

“Ja. Vot odder roof vos dere?”

“Right,” said Zeetha. “Anyway... if Agatha's safe, I vote we go and explore, Violetta. Pick up a bit of local knowledge. I dare say we'll need it.”

“Good plan,” Violetta agreed. “Even if it is the middle of the night. Actually, what time is it here? I'd like to know just how out of synch we are.”

“It's just gone five in the morning,” replied Adrian.

“Oh, well. We could get some breakfast while we're out, then,” said Violetta. “Even if it is more like tea time.”

“Yeah – going to be a long day,” said Zeetha cheerfully. “What's this building called?”

“It's the High Energy Magic Building,” said Adrian.

“Thanks. I don't see a problem finding our way back, but it might be useful if we need to tell anyone where we're going.”

“You're... not going into the city, are you?” asked Ponder, horrified.

“Yes. Why not?” said Zeetha.

“Well... shouldn't, maybe, Dimo go with you? It can get really dangerous, especially at night.”

Dimo chuckled throatily. “Hy dun tink dey need me, Mister Stibbons.”

“Nope,” said Violetta. “We can do dangerous.”

“Oh yes,” said Zeetha happily. “Come on, Violetta. Let's go and have some danger for breakfast!”

* * *

Bungo “Slugger” Willis of the Thieves' Guild waited, cosh in hand, in a state of almost Zenlike stillness and calm. Any moment now, those two innocent young ladies with the strangely coloured hair would walk round that corner, at which point he would knock them out, relieve them of any valuables they happened to be carrying, and tuck a Guild card somewhere about the person of one of them so that they knew it had been an _official_ robbery. None of this dodgy unlicensed stuff. They clearly had to be visitors, because he had never seen anyone else in Ankh-Morpork with hair that colour, especially not the green; and you couldn't go fobbing visitors off with anything other than the real thing. There was civic pride to consider, after all.

They rounded the corner. Willis raised his cosh...

...and then several things happened at once. After a brief, crowded moment, Willis found himself lying on his stomach in the alley, with Violetta sitting on him and Zeetha pointing a sword in his face.

“How many's that now, Zeetha?” asked Violetta. “I've lost count.”

“Eleven,” Zeetha replied. “And, you know what? This is getting old.”

“Is that eleven separate attacks, or... how are we counting the one where there were six of them, and two of them got away and then tried again later?”

“I'm counting that as one attack and a piece of stupidity. Don't know about you,” replied Zeetha. “Now. You on the floor. What's your name?”

“Nnnnngh,” said Willis.

“That's not a name. Speak up or I'll skewer you.”

“W... W... Willis,” he managed.

“Thieves' Guild, by any chance?”

“Y... y... yes.”

“Right,” said Zeetha. “Well, I have had about enough of your precious Guild to last me a lifetime, so what you are going to do now is to take us to the headquarters of said Guild, and there Violetta and I will talk to your head honcho or whatever it is you call them, and then your head honcho will put out an official memorandum about how it is a really bad idea to go bothering us in future, and then we will all be happy. Yes?”

“Ah. Er. Yes, of course, ladies. Anything you say. Could you please, er, let me stand up? Can't take you there in this position.”

Violetta got off his back. “Any tricks,” she said calmly, “and you get to discover what my jewellery's for. Let's just say I'm not the kind of lady who goes in for unnecessary ornament.”

Willis swallowed. “I'll be very good. Are you an Assassin, ma'am?”

“You said that with a capital A, didn't you? Probably not the sort you have in mind. But I can be one, if I've got a good enough reason.”

“I suppose they've got their own Guild, too?” said Zeetha.

“Oh, yes, ma'am,” said Willis.

Zeetha rolled her eyes. “I might have known.”

“Do you suppose they have guest memberships?” asked Violetta.

This question, however, never got an answer, because at that moment there was a shout from the other end of the alley. “All right, Slugger! We've got you covered.”

“Nooooo!” yelled Willis, in desperation. It was too late. His two friends came pelting down the alley, swords drawn, murder in their eyes.

“Oh, for the love of all that squeaks,” muttered Zeetha. “Right. That is it. That is so it.”

Zeetha impaled the first of them on both her swords at once, and Violetta saw to the second. Exactly how she did that is difficult to relate, because she moved so fast; but, certainly, while Zeetha was extracting her blades from the first thug, Violetta was calmly laying out the second, and there was quite a lot of blood in the general vicinity of his collar.

“OH,” said a sepulchral voice from above them. “BUGGER.”

Zeetha, Violetta, and a white-faced Willis looked up. A tall, black-robed figure stood there, hefting a scythe. Its face was a skull, and bright blue light shone from its eye sockets.

“Aaaaaaaargh,” said Willis, and fainted.

“Are you in charge of these two?” Zeetha demanded. “Because if you are, I've got a bone to pick... er...” She stopped. Even Zeetha sometimes realised when she had just said something tactless.

“I AM NOW, IT APPEARS,” said Death. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A PIG'S EAR THIS IS GOING TO MAKE OF MY ACCOUNTING?”

“What?!” said Violetta.

“THEY WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO DIE TODAY!” Death protested. “THIS ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE A WEEK NEXT TUESDAY, AND THE OTHER ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO LIVE ANOTHER THREE AND A HALF YEARS, MORE OR LESS.”

“Yeah, but they came charging at us with swords,” said Zeetha. “What did you want us to do, teach them to knit?”

“IT MIGHT HAVE HELPED,” replied Death.

“Listen... scythe, robe, general skeletal appearance... you've got to be Death, right?” said Violetta. “I mean, like, actual Death? And that's how you know when they should have died?”

“CORRECT,” said Death.

“Well,” said Violetta, “if you're Death, then surely you have a lot of power. Couldn't you have stopped them from running at us in the first place?”

“IT DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT,” said Death. “THE PROBLEM IS, YOU DON'T BELONG IN THIS UNIVERSE. YOU'RE NOT FROM HERE. I CAN TELL. I DON'T HAVE YOU ANYWHERE IN MY FILES.”

“Hey,” said Zeetha. “Does that mean we can't get killed here?”

“I DOUBT IT. AND IF YOU DO GET KILLED, LET ME TELL YOU, I AM GOING TO BE SO PISSED OFF...”

Violetta put her head on one side. “You know, I somehow never imagined Death swearing so much.”

“YOU'D SWEAR TOO, IF YOU HAD ALL THE ADMINISTRATION PROBLEMS I'VE GOT,” said Death testily.

“Well, we didn't ask to come here,” said Zeetha. “Some students at Unseen University got one of their spells wrong, apparently. They were trying to summon a demon and they got us instead. Plus two other humans, one Jäger, one cat and one Wasp Eater.”

“BLOODY TYPICAL,” said Death. “I'M GOING TO HAVE A STERN WORD WITH ARCHCHANCELLOR RIDCULLY.”

“He wasn't there,” said Violetta. “We haven't met him yet. Although Mr Stibbons did mention him.”

“NO, I DON'T SUPPOSE HE WAS. HE'LL BE GOING FOR A RUN ON THE RIVER ABOUT NOW, I SHOULD THINK. HE USUALLY DOES.”

“Don't you mean a run by the river?” asked Violetta.

“AH. YOU HAVEN'T ACTUALLY LOOKED CLOSELY AT THE ANKH, THEN?”

“Not as such,” said Zeetha.

“BELIEVE ME, THE ARCHCHANCELLOR IS PROBABLY OUT FOR A RUN ON THE RIVER. I THINK I SHALL WAIT FOR HIM TO RETURN. IT IS UNDIGNIFIED TRYING TO TALK TO SOMEONE WHEN RUNNING, AND IF HE STOPS HE IS LIABLE TO BURN THROUGH THE SOLES OF HIS RUNNING SHOES.”

Violetta sighed. “Just when I was starting to think I couldn't be surprised by weird any more.” She looked down at the recumbent Willis. “This bozo is supposed to be taking us to the Thieves' Guild. Should we wait for him to recover, or can you point us in the right direction?”

“OH, I CAN SAVE YOU THE TROUBLE. I'LL TALK TO THEM MYSELF. I SEEM TO HAVE SOMETHING OF A TALENT FOR GETTING PEOPLE TO LISTEN. I DON'T WANT ANY MORE UNSCHEDULED DEATHS ROUND HERE, AFTER ALL.”

“Thanks,” said Zeetha, with a grin.

“YOU'RE WELCOME. AND NOW I HAVE TO TAKE THESE TWO AWAY.” He gestured at what appeared to be empty air. “YOU CANNOT SEE THEM, BUT I HAVE A PAIR OF SOMEWHAT DISORIENTATED GHOSTS TO DEAL WITH.”

He vanished. Violetta looked at Zeetha.

“Death,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Zeetha. “Well, magic works round here, so why not?”

“I know... but in that case, what else are we going to run into? The Tooth Fairy?”

“Don't be silly,” replied Zeetha. “Why would we run into the Tooth Fairy at our age?”

* * *

“Dey iz in dere a long time,” said Dimo.

“Getting bored?” asked Krosp.

Dimo scratched his chin. “Vell... not exactly. But Miz Zeetha tinks hy should haff a bath. Und maybe if dey iz safe in dere, hy could go und haff vun.”

“Well, nothing appears to have exploded, and Wooster knows what he's doing,” said Krosp. “The thing I respect about Wooster is that he knows his own limits. If anything happened that he knew he couldn't handle on his own, he'd run out here and get us, and he'd know when to do it, too. Pity he's such an old woman in some ways, but then, for goodness' sake, he is British, after all.”

“Vot hyu mean, he iz an old voman?” asked Dimo, indignantly. “Notting against old vimmin, but hyu didn't mean dot nizely. Und hyu dun go runnink down Mister Vooster to me, cat.”

Krosp snorted. “You didn't see him when he found Agatha wearing only a towel. He actually screamed. It was all she could do to get him to come into the compartment with us. Honestly, what sort of a spy does he call himself?”

“Hy should say a yentleman,” said Dimo. “Vot did hyu vant him to do? Ogle at her?”

“Well, at least not scream and back off,” said Krosp.

“Ja, vell, vot do hyu know about beink a yentleman?” Dimo demanded. “Hyu iz a tomcat.”

“Says the big rough unshaven Jäger,” said Krosp.

“Hy dun pretend to be a yentleman, but at least hy know vot vun looks like,” Dimo retorted.

“Oh, go and have a bath,” said Krosp. “Zeetha's right. You do need one.”

“Hyu giff me any more of dot, und hyu goink in vit me,” said Dimo, with a grin. “How hyu like dot, eh?”

“I'm a cat! I'm self-cleaning.”

“Goot. Vell, dun annoy der beeg rough unshaven Jäger, den.”

“Woof,” said a hopeful-sounding voice from some nearby bushes. “Woof. Bark, bark, bark. Got anything nice for a little doggie? Woof.”

“What the hell?” said Krosp.

A small, indescribable dog emerged from the shrubbery. “Bark,” he said, innocently.

“Miaow bloody miaow,” said Krosp. “What's your game, dog?”

“Gaspode,” said the dog. “That's me.”

“Yes, well, I'm Krosp. Emperor of All Cats, no less,” said Krosp. “And this here is Dimo, and if you annoy him he'll eat you.”

“No, hy von't,” said Dimo indignantly. “Hy dun eat liddle dogs.”

“Got any breakfast?” asked Gaspode. “I'm starving.”

“Ja,” said Dimo, sympathetically. “Hyu look like hyu iz. But ve got notting, hy afraid.”

“Come to that, I'm hungry too,” said Krosp. “Why don't you go and get us something, Dimo?”

“I'm not standing here waiting with a cat,” said Gaspode, huffily. “I've got my pride.”

“Oh?” said Krosp. “You think so, do you? Well, I can assure you that _my_ pride isn't going to let me be seen hanging around with the likes of _you_ , fleabag.”

Dimo sighed. “Eediots,” he said. “Hokay. Vy dun hyu go und get us zumting, Krosp? Dey seem to be used to tokking animals here.”

“I... wouldn't say used, exactly,” said Gaspode. “It's not as though there are very many of us. In fact, I may be the only one.”

“Is that why you say things like 'bark' and 'woof'?” asked Krosp.

“Well, yes,” Gaspode admitted. “People do tend to hear what they expect to hear.”

“I am _not_ going to walk round the place saying 'miaow' all the time,” said Krosp.

“No, you don't have to,” said Gaspode. “You're with him. Nobody's going to bother you when you're with a big green fellow with teeth. But I'm on my own, see? Got to live by my wits.”

“Ja, und hy can see hyu not liffink too vell,” said Dimo. “Hy dun care about anyvun's pride. Hyu need a goot meal. Hy goink to go und get vun. Be right beck.”

He strode off in the direction of the city. Krosp eyed Gaspode sidelong. “Didn't know he liked dogs,” he observed to nobody in particular, as though it were a slight black mark against Dimo.

“He's all right, him,” said Gaspode. “What is he, exactly, if I might be so bold as to ask? He's nothing I've seen before. And we've got trolls, dwarfs, several kinds of undead...”

“He's a Jäger,” replied Krosp. “A member of a warrior race created by the ancient Heterodynes. He's well over two hundred years old, lethal in battle, and able to recover quickly from almost any injury; also very hard to poison, although he did run into a poison once that would have killed him if he hadn't immediately had his arm amputated. That's why his left arm is mechanical.”

“Cor,” said Gaspode, impressed. “So where do you two come from, then? And what's a Heterodyne?”

“Probably another dimension. Or another universe. Or something like that,” replied Krosp. “As for what a Heterodyne is... well, there's one in the library there right now. She's an extremely powerful spark.”

“A powerful what?”

“Spark. Madgirl, if you absolutely have to put it that way.”

“Huh?” said Gaspode.

“You don't have sparks here?” asked Krosp, astonished.

“Nope. Well, not as far as I know. Unless we call them something else.”

“Highly intuitive scientists,” said Krosp. “They tend to invent things which defy the usual scientific laws.”

“What, you mean like wizards?” asked Gaspode. “Mind you, it's not just scientific laws they go round defying.”

“No,” said Krosp. “We don't have wizards, as such. We don't have magic in our world, for a start. But we certainly do have some damn strange science.”

“Okay,” said Gaspode thoughtfully. “So... I'm a dog, and I talk because of magic. And you're a cat, and you talk because of... damn strange science? Is that right?”

“Yes, you've got it,” replied Krosp.

“So,” said Gaspode. “What, actually, is the difference?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Krosp demanded, with some hauteur. “To do magic, you perform spells and incantations and so forth. But science requires experiments, calculations, the use of known physical effects...”

“Yeah, well, I think spells do that too,” said Gaspode. “I mean, I'm not absolutely certain. I'm not a wizard. But I could go and look out Rincewind for you if you like, and we could talk to him about it. He'd know.”

“Rincewind?”

“Yeah. Mate of mine. He's a wizard. Sort of.”

“This place is full of wizards,” Krosp pointed out. “I don't need to talk to a sort-of wizard, thank you.”

“Suit yourself, but you might get a more sensible answer out of him than some of this lot,” replied Gaspode. “Anyway, point I'm trying to make is, our magic and your weird science seem to do pretty much the same sort of things.”

Dimo returned at this point, striding up the hill with a large brown paper bag in his hands. The contents smelt enticing. “What did you do for money?” asked Krosp, curiously.

“Hy changed a gold coin at der bank. Gold iz goot anyvhere. Dun matter whose face iz schtamped on it,” replied Dimo cheerfully. “Now, here hyu go, liddle doggie. Breakfast.” He took out a huge piece of meat and laid it down in front of Gaspode, who wagged his tail so hard it looked as though it might come off.

“Cor,” he said. “Thanks. You're a toff.”

“Und a feesh for hyu,” said Dimo, handing a large trout to Krosp. “Und hy got sandviches for de rest of us. Hy yust goink to take dese in to de Mistress und Mister Vooster. Von't be long.”

“Who's Mr Vooster?” asked Gaspode, with his mouth full of meat.

“Wooster,” said Krosp. “Oh, he's our tame British spy. Well, not so tame if anyone tries attacking Agatha, at least, which is useful.”

“British? Oh, well,” said Gaspode. “I don't have to understand everything to know when I've got a friend. That Dimo, he's a good 'un.”

“Yeah, he's all right,” Krosp admitted. “Wish he'd go and have that damn bath, though.”


	2. The Library

“This is our Librarian,” said Ponder brightly.

“Ook,” said the Librarian.

“Oh, hi,” said Agatha.

“Delighted to meet you,” said Mr Wooster.

“Ook,” said the Librarian. “Ook eek ook?”

“This is Lady Heterodyne,” replied Mr Wooster, “and my name is Ardsley Wooster.”

“You understand him?” asked Ponder, astonished. “Normally I have to translate, as it were.”

“Yeah... actually, I know you're an outstanding linguist, Mr Wooster, but I didn't know you could converse with orang-utans as a matter of course,” said Agatha.

“Well, it's obvious what he's saying,” replied Mr Wooster, equally surprised. “I probably ought to say I'm a spy. I'm very well used to reading faces, body language, that sort of thing.”

“Ook ook ooooook,” said the Librarian.

“No, really, I don't think I am,” replied Mr Wooster. “Zeetha's excellent at reading people as well, so I'm sure she could do the same if she were here.”

“Ook eek,” said the Librarian. “Ook ook eek ook.”

“Who's the Patrician?” asked Mr Wooster.

“Ook!” exclaimed the Librarian, triumphantly. “Ook eek.”

“Oh,” said Mr Wooster, taken aback.

“What exactly is going on here?” asked Agatha.

“Well,” said Ponder, “when Mr Wooster said he was just reading the Librarian's non-verbal language, the Librarian replied that he was doing more than that, and Mr Wooster said he didn't think he was, and the Librarian said he ought to meet the Patrician. Which wasn't anything Mr Wooster might possibly have been expecting him to say, and in fact he doesn't even know who the Patrician is, which makes the point rather well, as the Librarian said.” He looked at Mr Wooster. “I do believe you have a certain natural magical sensitivity, Mr Wooster.”

“Me?”

“Yes. In fact, I think you may be a potential wizard.”

Mr Wooster gaped. “I... I think I must be the least wizardlike person I know,” he said.

“Wow,” said Agatha, with a grin. “I'm now trying to picture you in a pointy hat.”

“Please don't, Lady Heterodyne,” said Mr Wooster. “I'd really prefer not to wear one. I don't believe it would suit me.”

“Ook,” said the Librarian. “Ook ook ook eek.”

“Yes, well, er,” said Mr Wooster.

“What did he say?” asked Agatha.

“He said most of the faculty look bloody fools in them anyway,” replied Ponder, helpfully. “Anyway, er, this isn't really getting us anywhere. Librarian, these two come from... somewhere else. They're looking for background information about the Discworld. What have we got?”

“Ook eek?”

“We don't exactly know,” Ponder admitted. “Just that it's a planet rather like Roundworld.”

“Oook ook ook?”

“Some of my students tried to summon a demon,” Ponder admitted. “They got these two instead, and, er, some others.”

“Oook ook ook. Eeek ook.”

“Not entirely,” said Ponder. “To be fair, they did check everything with HEX first.”

“Oooooooook.”

The weasel chose this moment to pop out of Agatha's hair and examine the Librarian. “Snee?” it suggested.

“Ook?!”

“Snurf! Skree!”

“I think it likes you,” said Agatha.

“Ook,” said the Librarian.

“Why have you got a weasel in your hair?” asked Ponder.

“Oh... it's kind of complicated,” replied Agatha. “There's this idiot who wants me to marry him.”

“And the weasel is there to frighten him off if he makes unwanted advances?” asked Ponder.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” said Agatha. “He did something to my body chemistry to try to make sure I would always have to be near him. So I modified this little weasel to use as a substitute, so I could get away from him. The weasel is so much cuter.” She beamed.

“And you're quite sure you want to go back to your world?” asked Ponder, faintly.

“Of course! I've got a city to save.”

“Librarian,” said Ponder, “if I ever complain about things being too weird round here again, just remind me of this, will you?”

“Ook,” replied the Librarian. While they were talking, he had been swinging around the shelves, gathering up a pile of books, which he deposited in front of Agatha and Mr Wooster. “Ook ook. Oook ook eek oook ook. Oook eek.”

“He says this should be a good start,” Mr Wooster translated. “If we need anything else, we only have to ask him, but we shouldn't touch any of the books on our own, especially not the ones that are chained up.” He looked up at the Librarian. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Ook oook,” replied the Librarian, grinning.

“Why would anyone chain up books?” asked Agatha. “This is really intriguing.”

“This is a magical library,” Ponder explained. “Some of the books in here are really dangerous.” He shuddered. “Some of them... read _you_ , if you're not careful. But you'll both be fine as long as you pay attention to the Librarian. He knows what he's doing.”

“Ook,” the Librarian confirmed, nodding sagely.

“They... oh, wow,” said Agatha. “I don't have any books like that. Not even at Castle Heterodyne.”

“You _want_ some?” asked Ponder.

“You bet,” said Agatha, her eyes shining.

“Oook ook eeeeeeek,” observed the Librarian.

“Well, not as such,” replied Mr Wooster, clearly somewhat embarrassed, “but she _is_ a spark.”

“Ook ook?”

“A spark. You might call her a highly intuitive scientist, if you will.”

“Is he asking if I'm crazy?” asked Agatha.

“Yes, I'm afraid he is,” replied Mr Wooster.

“Only occasionally,” said Agatha, grinning at the Librarian.

“Ook,” replied the Librarian, darkly.

* * *

Lord Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, stared thoughtfully at the papers on his desk. After a moment or two, he rang the bell, and Drumknott, his clerk, trotted in.

“Yes, my lord?” he said.

“Get hold of Death for me, will you, Drumknott?”

Drumknott was normally imperturbable, but this time he blinked. “You... did just say Death, my lord?”

“Yes, Drumknott. It is up to you how you manage that. I would suggest going through Mr Ridcully, but you may know of other methods. I can certainly inform you that he was last seen talking to Mr Boggis at the Thieves' Guild, if that helps you in any way.”

“Ah... and... er... is Mr Boggis still with us, my lord?”

“If he has not drunk himself to death in the Mended Drum by now, then I expect so,” replied the Patrician. “He is not normally a heavy drinker, but he appears to have been rather shocked.”

“I will speak to Mr Ridcully, I think,” said Drumknott.

“Excellent. Then go to it, Drumknott.”

If Lord Vetinari wanted to speak to Death, clearly something serious was afoot; therefore Drumknott walked over to Unseen University himself, rather than merely sending a message. On reaching the gates, he asked to see Archchancellor Ridcully, and was promptly shown in. The Archchancellor had now finished his early morning run and had his shower, and was on his way down to the Great Hall for a hearty breakfast.

“Ah, Drumknott,” he said. “You're abroad early. So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“His lordship would like to speak to Death, sir,” Drumknott explained.

“Oh. Why?”

“One does not ask, Archchancellor,” replied Drumknott diplomatically.

“Well, I...”

“Oh, there you are, Archchancellor!” exclaimed Ponder Stibbons, hurrying up from a side corridor. “I've been looking for you. We've got some...” His glance fell upon Drumknott. “Oh, sorry. I didn't realise I was interrupting official business. Can I talk to you later, sir?”

“I expect so,” replied Ridcully. “In the meantime, you may as well make yourself useful. Go and round up a few of the senior wizards and tell 'em to get down to the Palace and perform the Rite of Ashk'ente. Vetinari wants to talk to Death, and I'd sooner he did that there than here.”

“Um...” said Ponder.

“Well, don't just stand there!” said Ridcully. “Go and do it.”

“Er. Yes, Archchancellor.” Ponder hurried off the way he had come.

“There,” said Ridcully, with satisfaction. “That's sorted. Anything else we can do for you while you're here, Mr Drumknott? Care to join me for some breakfast?”

“I have broken my fast, thank you, Archchancellor, but I appreciate the invitation,” said Drumknott. “I had perhaps better return to the Palace now. I think his lordship has something on his mind.”

“As in, something more than usual?” asked Ridcully.

“Precisely, Archchancellor.”

Once Drumknott had taken his leave, Ridcully continued to the Great Hall. As usual, there were very few wizards about at this hour of the morning, and most of those who were had been up all night, like Adrian Turnipseed and the other students who had been with him in the lab. Wizards, on the whole, did not tend to be early risers. Mustrum Ridcully had always been an exception to this rule. Apart from anything else, he enjoyed a good breakfast.

He was just splashing Wow-Wow Sauce liberally over a plate of kidneys (technically already devilled, but they were never diabolical enough for Ridcully's palate) when Ponder returned looking ruffled. “I had to wake them up, Archchancellor,” he said. “They complained.”

“I imagine they did,” replied Ridcully. “Don't worry about 'em, Stibbons. It'll do 'em good to get out in the morning for once. You eaten yet?”

“Not yet. I was just going to get something.”

“Well, do that, and then come and join me. You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?”

“Yes, Archchancellor. Thank you.”

Ponder hurried off, returning shortly with a couple of hot buttered muffins. “We've got some visitors, Mr Ridcully,” he explained. “They're not from the Discworld. We don't know exactly where they're from, to be honest. All we know is it's somewhere like Roundworld.”

“Oh?” said Ridcully. “And how do we come to have them?”

“Some of my students, I'm afraid, Archchancellor. They tried to perform a spell, and it went wrong.”

Ridcully narrowed his eyes. “What were they trying to do, exactly?”

“Summon a demon,” Ponder admitted. “They wanted it to help with HEX. But what they actually got was... well, several people. Mostly human.”

“Mostly?”

“Well, one of them is apparently what is known as a Jäger, which is... I think you'd have to see him to get the idea, sir. And there's also a talking cat. With a bad temper.”

“I see. And what are you doing about this, Mr Stibbons?”

“Trying to get them back to where they came from,” Ponder replied. “But, in the meantime, I thought you ought to know they were here.”

“Yes, quite so,” said Ridcully. “Where are they at the moment?”

“Two of them are in the Library, two more are standing guard outside, and the other two went off to explore the city,” said Ponder. “I... I must admit, I'm worried about those two. They're both young ladies. I did try to tell them it could be dangerous, but they didn't seem to be concerned.”

“H'mm,” said Ridcully. “They tried to summon one demon, but they got six people instead? There's got to be a serious thaumic energy imbalance somewhere.”

“Well, five and a cat,” Ponder clarified. “Oh, and an eight-legged weasel, but that's not very big, so I suppose it's neither here nor there.”

“It isn't? Where is it, then?”

Ponder recalled too late that the Archchancellor, though a very clever man, did have something of a tendency to take things literally, and therefore to fall over idiomatic phrases occasionally. “It's here, Archchancellor,” he replied. “What I meant to say was that its mass probably doesn't make much difference in the equations.”

“Well, why the hell didn't you just say so?” said Ridcully. “All right. So... five people, one cat, and one small weasel. With eight legs.”

“Yes, Archchancellor.”

“And one of the people isn't human, and the cat talks?”

“Exactly, Archchancellor.”

“And you have definitely not been drinking?”

“Certainly not, Archchancellor.”

“What about the students?”

“I have no knowledge of their recent alcohol intake,” Ponder replied.

“H'mm,” said Ridcully. “I think I'd probably better...”

“EXCUSE ME.”

Ridcully looked up with a start. “Oh.” He paused. “What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the Palace right now?”

“NOT TO MY KNOWLEDGE. WHY?”

“Oh. I suppose they haven't started the Rite yet.”

Death glared at him, which is very easy to do when your eyes consist entirely of bright blue light. “OH, NOT THE BLOODY RITE OF ASHK'ENTE AGAIN,” he complained. “YOU KNOW VERY WELL HOW MUCH I HATE THAT.”

“It's by special request of Lord Vetinari this time, I'm afraid,” said Ridcully. “You'd better take it up with him.”

“BELIEVE ME, I SHALL. NOW, WHAT DO YOUR WIZARDS BLOODY WELL THINK THEY ARE DOING THIS TIME?”

“I have no idea what they bloody well think they're doing,” replied Ridcully. “Perhaps you'd better tell me what they've bloody well done, and then I'll see if I can work out what they bloody well thought they were doing.” He paused. “Though, I warn you, that isn't always the easiest thing in the world.”

“THEY HAVE BROUGHT SOME PEOPLE HERE FROM... ELSEWHERE,” Death explained. “AND TWO OF THOSE PEOPLE HAVE CAUSED UNSCHEDULED DEATHS. ADMITTEDLY, THEY WERE VERY MUCH PROVOKED. BUT, STILL.”

“Unscheduled... deaths?” asked Ponder, turning white.

“YES. TWO MEMBERS OF THE THIEVES' GUILD. IT WAS THE ELEVENTH TIME THE TWO YOUNG LADIES HAD BEEN ATTACKED, AND SO I AM NOT ENTIRELY WITHOUT SYMPATHY. EVEN SO, THE MESS IT WILL MAKE OF MY ACCOUNTING...”

“My, my,” said Ridcully cheerfully. “So, let me get this right. They'd been attacked ten times already, they were still alive and on their feet, and on the eleventh occasion they got annoyed and killed a couple of thieves? Good for them, I say!”

“INDEED. IT IS REALLY YOUR WIZARDS I AM BLAMING FOR ALL THIS.”

“Well,” said Ponder weakly, “now I understand why they didn't need an escort.”

Death turned the full blue light of his gaze on Ponder. “AM I TO UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS DEBACLE?”

“It w... w... was some of my s... s... students,” Ponder stammered. “I wasn't even there at the time. I'm, er, doing my best to put it right. As q... quickly as possible.”

“YOU HAD... OH, DAMN.” Death vanished abruptly.

“Ah,” said the Archchancellor. “That'll be the Rite.”

“He's not going to be very pleased when he arrives at the Palace,” said Ponder nervously.

“No. But I'm actually rather glad he came here first,” Ridcully replied. “Now I have a very good idea why the Patrician wanted to see him. If Death turned up to complain when these two young ladies killed the thieves, someone will have reported that to Vetinari, and Vetinari will consider that sufficiently unusual to want to know what is going on. What better way to find out than from Death himself?”

Ponder's eyes widened. “His lordship scares me to... er... well, death sometimes,” he admitted.

“Yes. Well, I think it might be a very good idea if those two young ladies were found and brought back here very quickly,” said Ridcully. “I expect Vetinari will want to see them, and I'd rather they had some warning of that. They were brought here by some of our wizards, so we've got a responsibility towards them until we can send them back where they came from.”

“Yes, Archchancellor,” said Ponder. “But it's a big city. They may be quite hard to find, even though their appearance is unusual.”

Ridcully sighed. “Didn't you hear Death? They were attacked eleven times and they're alive and walking.”

“Well, yes, but...?”

“News like that,” said Ridcully, “gets round.”

* * *

“This is amazing stuff,” said Agatha happily. “Almost anything you can do in our world with spark technology, you can do here with magic. And _vice versa.”_

“Yes, it's extremely interesting,” Mr Wooster replied. “Although I can't help noticing that most of the spells look very hard to pronounce. Take this one, for instance. _Gladrangh melingzni...”_

“Eeeeeeek!!!” shouted the Librarian.

“Oh,” said Mr Wooster, abashed. “Sorry.”

“Oook. Oook ook ook eeeeeeek!”

“Well, I can't quite get my mind round the idea that I'm... magically sensitive,” said Mr Wooster. “I can assure you, I've never thought of myself as wizard material in any way.” He paused, aghast. “What's that?”

“Oook ook ook eek ook!”

Agatha looked at the thing on the desk in front of Mr Wooster. It looked like a tiny, formless piece of... not exactly either light or darkness, but something with the characteristics of both. It was also no colour that either of them had ever seen or imagined.

“Did you just make that, Mr Wooster?” asked Agatha, awestruck.

“Apparently I did,” said Mr Wooster. “Oh dear. I really hope it won't cause any harm.”

“Ook ook eek ook oooooook eek oook,” replied the Librarian. “Ook ook.”

“Oh. It'll disperse naturally after a few minutes,” said Mr Wooster, relieved. “Thank goodness for that. I was worried.”

The Librarian put a large hairy arm around Mr Wooster's shoulders. “Ook oook ook,” he suggested. “Ook oook?”

“Well, it's a little early in the day, but that was a bit of a shock,” Mr Wooster admitted. “Lady Heterodyne, the Librarian thinks I need a drink.”

“Yes, you do look a little overwound,” said Agatha.

“Ook ook oook ook,” said the Librarian.

“He says we won't be long,” Mr Wooster translated.

“All right,” said Agatha. “I'll be fine here. I know what I'm doing now.”

The Librarian led Mr Wooster out, and gave him to understand that they were going to pay a visit to the Mended Drum. This was fine with Mr Wooster; it was a more or less British-sounding pub name, and anything similar to a British pub was likely to be good for his twanged nerves at this moment. He was slightly less sanguine once he actually saw the place, since it looked decidedly down at heel. However, he reflected that nobody was likely to bother him when he was walking into the place with a three-hundred-pound orang-utan, especially not one who was clearly highly intelligent. He wondered what the Librarian's story was. It was bound to be extremely interesting. Perhaps he could get him to tell it while they were here.

The Librarian found them a table. “Oook ook,” he said, companionably.

“Thank you,” said Mr Wooster, sitting down.

“Ook oook ook?”

“Oh – thank you. That's very kind. I'd like a small glass of sherry, please, if they have one.”

The Librarian ambled up to the bar. Despite the early hour, it was surprisingly busy; it looked as though a lot of people had recently come off night shift somewhere nearby. Mr Wooster began to relax a little.

On the other side of the room, Tilly and Lola, two members of the Guild of Seamstresses, eyed the new arrival speculatively. “Coo,” said Tilly. “Now he's a bit of all right.”

Lola shrugged. “Not my type. Mind you, he's well dressed. Probably got some money. You might be lucky.” She grinned. “You go for him if you want him. I'm going to try for that sailor.”

“Not your type? You're picky, ain't you? I think he's gorgeous.” Tilly adjusted her blouse to show off a little more cleavage. “Well, I ain't complaining. Wouldn't want to have to fight you for him.” She teetered over to him on a pair of dangerously high heels.

“Hallo, smart boy,” she purred. “Want some company?”

“As a matter of fact I have some already, madam,” replied Mr Wooster politely, “but it is kind of you to offer.”

“Well, I see they've left you on your own for now,” she said, sitting down next to him. “I don't think we've met before. New in town, are you?”

“Yes, I am, as it happens...”

There was a sudden rush of movement, and Tilly found her hand being held up in front of her, with Mr Wooster's hand clamped firmly about her wrist. “Madam,” he said, severely. “That was just _amateurish.”_

“You what?!” said Tilly.

“You will get nowhere like that,” said Mr Wooster. “If you insist on thieving, at the very least the first place to check is the pockets, and if you don't know where a gentleman keeps his pockets by now then I fear I can hardly help you.”

Tilly blinked. “I wasn't thieving,” she said.

“Well, if you weren't thieving, could you please explain exactly what you were doing?”

“Er...” Tilly floundered. She had never met anyone like Mr Wooster before.

The Librarian returned with the drinks. “Oook?” he enquired.

“This young person appears to have a rather vague idea about where my pockets are located,” Mr Wooster explained.

“Ookookookookooook!”

“What is so amusing?” asked Mr Wooster, baffled.

“Ook,” the Librarian explained, kindly. “Ook oook ook eek ook ook oooook.”

Mr Wooster blushed to the roots of his hair. “Really,” he said. “I have to say that, where I come from, that is considered to be entirely inappropriate.”

“A lot of gentlemen in here quite like a bit of inappropriate sometimes,” said Tilly.

“Very well. Ah. Would you then, perhaps, mind going to talk to the, er, gentlemen to whom you allude, madam?” said Mr Wooster.

“Oook ook ook ook?”

“No, that's very kind of you, Librarian, but I think a small glass will be quite enough,” replied Mr Wooster.

Tilly scuttled off, disappointed.

“Ook,” observed the Librarian thoughtfully. “Oook ook ook. Oook eek oook ook ook?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” replied Mr Wooster, taken aback. “Why do you ask?”

“Ook ook ooook oook oook ook,” the Librarian explained. “Oook oook eek oooook ook ook.”

“Oh, I see – wizards have to be celibate,” said Mr Wooster. “But surely not everyone who is celibate is a wizard?”

“Ook,” replied the Librarian, “ook ooook ook oook ook ook eek ooook ook.”

“Ah, right,” said Mr Wooster. “Well, that's certainly very interesting. Although I don't intend to be celibate for life. I'm hoping to marry and settle down one day, though I fear I shall probably have to give up my present job first. It is no life for any woman to be married to a spy.”

“Oook ook ooook ook?”

“That is a very good question,” replied Mr Wooster, rather heavily. “Love of my country, first and foremost. But I must admit I do frequently ask myself the same thing.” He paused. “However, you did bring me in here to calm me down, and I'm afraid that talking about my work won't do that. What about you? How did you become the Librarian of Unseen University?”

By the time they had finished their drinks, Mr Wooster was a great deal calmer and knew quite a lot about the Librarian. He realised that he rather envied him. To live in a world of books all the time, with almost no worries, since bothering the Librarian would make about as much sense as bothering a Jäger... it must be heaven. And it wasn't even as if the Librarian ever got bored. If he fancied a little excitement, there were always dangerous volumes to go and corral. Some of them, apparently, had to be wrestled into submission.

Dangerous volumes... and they'd left Agatha in the library...

“Perhaps we really ought to be getting back now,” he suggested.

“Ook,” the Librarian agreed. “Ook oook.”

The sun was well up in the sky by this time; it was a clear, bright morning with just a hint of frost in the air. Mr Wooster rather wished he had his coat with him, but they were, after all, walking quite briskly, or at least he was. The Librarian was ambling, as he always appeared to do. For all that, though, he could amble surprisingly fast.

They found Krosp still outside the door, but there was no sign of Dimo. “What's happened to Dimo?” asked Mr Wooster.

“Gone for a bath,” replied Krosp. “Or a shower, or whatever they have round here. It seemed safe enough.”

“Ah, right,” said Mr Wooster. “Thank you. Have you had breakfast?”

“Oh yeah. Dimo got me a trout. It was pretty good.”

“Oh, so that's why I could smell fish,” replied Mr Wooster. “That makes sense.”

“Oook ook?” asked the Librarian.

“Krosp,” Mr Wooster explained. “He's, er...”

“The Emperor of All Cats, is what I am,” Krosp finished.

“Ook,” observed the Librarian.

They entered the library. Mr Wooster looked round. “Lady Heterodyne?” he said.

“Ook?” called the Librarian, enquiringly. There was silence.

“Oh, no,” said Mr Wooster. He ran to the desk where she had been sitting. There were still several books open upon it, but no sign of Agatha. “Librarian! Do you have any idea what's happened?”

The Librarian shook his head. “Ook. Oook oooook ook ook eeek eek oook.”

“But I can help,” Mr Wooster protested. “I've told you. I'm a spy. I'm used to dangerous situations.”

“Ooook ook ook eeeeek ook.”

“L-Space? What's L-Space?”

“Oook oook oook oook EEEEEK oook,” replied the Librarian firmly. “Oook oook ook oook oook oook oooooook.”

“Well, if you're absolutely sure that's how I can best be of help,” said Mr Wooster. “Where am I likely to find him?”

“Oook oook ooook ook oook.”

“Very well, then. I'll do that.” He paused. “You're sure you can find Lady Heterodyne?”

“Oook ook oook.”

“I'd... really like a little more certainty,” Mr Wooster admitted, “but naturally you can't do more than your best. Thank you.”

He hurried out of the library. “Krosp!” he said. “Go and find Dimo. I'm going to look for Archchancellor Ridcully, and I'd like you two to join us. Lady Heterodyne has disappeared.”

“She's what?!” Krosp spluttered.

Mr Wooster sighed. “The Librarian thinks she probably went looking for a book by herself, and she may be in something he calls L-Space. He's going to look for her there. He won't let me come in with him, because he knows it and I don't. He says it's too dangerous for me. I did offer to help, but it sounds as though I'd be more of a hindrance. So he's sent me to talk to the Archchancellor.”

“Well, at least this time she hasn't actually blown anything up,” Krosp conceded. “Damn it. How big is this university, anyway?”

“Quite big. But you're a clever cat. I'm sure you can find Dimo.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Wooster,” Krosp grumbled.

“It's not flattery. If I didn't tell you you were a clever cat, you'd soon put me right. Now, I'm off. I'm getting cold here.” He hurried away, the breeze flapping at the wide collar of his waistcoat.

Krosp swore under his breath. “I'll have my claws into that damn orang-utan for this,” he muttered.


	3. A Touch of Octarine

Dimo stalked through the corridors, trying doors occasionally. Really, it couldn't be so difficult. Presumably wizards did wash now and then; they didn't just clean themselves by magic. Somewhere, there had to be a room with either a bath or a shower in it. Once he found that, of course, then he would have to see about borrowing some soap and a towel from somewhere; but that was likely to be the easy part. In his experience, people were generally quite happy to lend him things.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded a voice just behind him.

Dimo turned. “Hy iz Dimo,” he replied, showing all his fangs. “Und hy iz lookink for a bath. Or a shower. Hy dun mind.”

The wizard – and it clearly had to be a wizard, for he was wearing the standard robe and pointy hat – gave Dimo an odd look. “At this time of day?”

“Ja, vy not?” asked Dimo.

“Why here?” asked the wizard, clearly puzzled.

“Because hy heppen to be here,” replied Dimo, a little annoyed. “Iz not like hy asked to be here. Zum of hyu schtudent vizards got tings wrong.”

“Oh,” said the wizard. “What are you, exactly?”

“Hy iz a Jäger. Und hy vish hyu vould schtop asking eediot qvestions und tell me vhere iz a bath.”

“What is a Jäger?”

Dimo had had enough. He picked up the man by the front of his robes. “Iz zumvun like me. Now. Vhere iz de bath? Hy dun vant to haff to ask hyu again.”

The wizard panicked, waved his hands in the air, and muttered some words under his breath. An extremely tiny storm cloud appeared in front of Dimo's nose, shot off a couple of bolts of lightning, and vanished as suddenly as it had arrived.

“Vot vos dot supposed to be about?” asked Dimo, bewildered.

“That,” said the wizard, with all the dignity he could muster, “was supposed to be Thistlethwaite's Thaumaturgic Thunderstorm, that was.”

“Vot for?” asked Dimo.

“It... was meant to be a bit bigger,” replied the wizard, sheepishly. “Could you, um, put me down? Please?”

Dimo put him down, straightened him up, and looked at him curiously. “Hyu not much of a vizard, iz hyu?”

“I haven't had breakfast,” replied the wizard, embarrassed. “I'm never a lot of good for anything on an empty stomach.”

“Hokay. Hyu tell me vhere de bath is, und den hyu haff some breakfast.”

“Next turn left, then keep turning left until you hit a dead end,” replied the wizard.

“Tenk hyu,” said Dimo. “Dot vosn't zo hard, vos it? Oh, und ken hy borrow some soap und a towel?”

“Plenty of towels in the linen cupboard next to the bathroom,” replied the wizard, “and there'll probably be soap in there. People are always leaving it.”

“Goot,” said Dimo.

He followed the wizard's directions. There seemed to be rather more left turns than actually made any sense, but then this was an old building, after all. At the end of them, he did indeed find the bathroom, with the linen cupboard next to it as the wizard had said. He chose a large soft fluffy towel, then locked himself in the bathroom, assured himself that there was indeed some stray soap lying around, and proceeded to undress while he ran himself a nice hot bath. This was a wonderful luxury as far as he was concerned; generally speaking, he was used to a zinc tub by the fire. Or there had been the shower he'd had built in the caves, and that had not been too bad, but it was still good to be able to stretch out at full length in an enamel tub with hot and cold running water. And... oh, there was even some bubble bath. Well, thought Dimo happily, vy not?

It was not just Maxim who was inclined to sing during his ablutions. Maxim, to be fair, did tend to sing whenever he got the chance, being rather proud of his fine tenor voice. Dimo did not often do it in public unless he was singing with others, but the bath was a different matter, especially since bathrooms like this normally had an acoustic which favoured his rich bass. Once he was lying in the bath surrounded by banks of soft white bubbles, he launched into one of his favourite old Jäger marching songs. It was, admittedly, rather bloodthirsty; but probably nobody round here would understand the language, unless Mr Wooster happened to be listening.

He was taken aback by the trumpet accompaniment. It appeared to come out of nowhere.

He stopped singing. The trumpets stopped. He started again. They joined him, coming in rather earlier this time.

“Veird,” he muttered to himself. He decided to try something else, and after some thought selected one of the love songs Maxim was always singing. This time, he got strings, and possibly an oboe, although it was a little hard to tell over the sound of the plumbing.

“Veirder,” said Dimo. He cast about for something different to sing, and, perhaps inspired by his immediate surroundings, suddenly thought of a piece of Gilbert & Sullivan that Mr Wooster had occasionally been induced to sing in the caves.

“Ho, my name iz Yohn Vellington Vells,” he sang. “Hy a dealer in magic und schpells...”

He was rewarded for this with a full orchestra.

This was fascinating. He tried, in turn, a Bach lullaby (harpsichord), a drinking song (accordion), a Christmas carol (church organ), and an old song he could barely remember but which had been popular in the distant past when he was a boy, before he was ever a Jäger. That one got him a consort of viols, which he considered seriously impressive. He wondered how to go about getting a harp. He liked the harp. It was one of his favourite instruments.

Maxim would have a field day in here. Come to think of it, you'd probably never get him out.

_“Vilja, o Vilja, du Waldmägdelein,  
fass' mich und lass' mich...”_

Dimo was rudely interrupted. “That's for soprano,” said a little voice, apparently from somewhere in the pipes. “It sounds ridiculous sung by a bass.”

“Vot?!” Dimo checked the bubbles, hastily assuring himself that he was decent. He had no problem at all about another Jäger seeing him naked, but the owner of this voice, whoever it was, clearly wasn't a Jäger.

“Well, sing it if you insist, but I'm not accompanying you. I've got my limits.”

“Who der dumboozle iz hyu?” Dimo demanded.

“Oh, stop panicking. I'm just a demon,” said the voice.

“But hy got notting on!”

“So what? I'm used to naked people. I get naked people in here all the time. It's just part of the job. They sing, I give them the accompaniment. That's what they pay me for.”

“Ja,” said Dimo, a little faintly, “but iz de nekkid pipple used to hyu?”

“I don't know. I don't go round asking them,” said the demon. “Anyway, if you're going to sing that sort of stuff, why don't you go for... well, at the very least a baritone aria? I mean, you could sing Danilo. Well, all right, that's not a trained voice you've got there, but nobody ever worries too much about that for the purpose of singing in the bath, do they? You could sing... um... _Da geh' ich zu Maxim.”_

“Maxim iz not here,” said Dimo, puzzled. It should, perhaps, be explained at this point that he had never heard _The Merry Widow_ in its entirety, only excerpts.

It was the demon's turn to be baffled. “What?”

“Und also,” said Dimo, “shouldn't it be _bei Maxim_?”

“Look, I don't know what Maxim you're talking about, but this is Maxim's Bar in Paris,” said the demon. “Therefore, it is _zu_ , not _bei_.”

“Maxim got a bar in Paris?! He keeps very qviet about dot vun.”

“I think we're probably talking at cross purposes,” said the demon. “Look, are you going to sing or aren't you?”

“Vell... hyu gone und put me off a bit now,” Dimo replied. “How hyu making de instrument sounds, anyvay?”

“It's mostly the plumbing. And magic,” the demon explained. “Oh, and very good natural pitch.”

“Ken hyu do a harp?” asked Dimo.

“Yes, but you've got to sing,” said the demon. “It's in my contract. I'm strictly an accompanist. You don't sing, I don't play.”

“Vell, hokay. Vot could hy sing dat vould get hyu to play der harp?”

“H'mm. Know any Irish ballads?”

“Dun tink so,” replied Dimo.

There was a clatter at the door. “Dimo!” It was Krosp's voice. “Are you in there?”

“Ja, but hy haffn't finished my bath,” Dimo called back. “Und hy vant to get dis demon to play der harp. Hyu know any goot harp songs?”

“Demon? Harp? Have you lost your mind?” Krosp demanded. “Agatha's gone missing!”

“VOT?!” Dimo leapt out of the bath as though he had had a bomb planted under him.

“Do you mind?” said the demon. “You splashed me, and I'm right up here!”

Dimo ignored him. He grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his waist, and ran out into the corridor, dripping everywhere. “Gone missink? Vhen? How?”

“We are going to see Archchancellor Ridcully,” said Krosp, “but I am not taking you to him like that. I'll talk to you through the door while you get dried off and dressed.”

“But ve left her safe in der library...”

“Seems the library's not so safe after all,” said Krosp grimly. “The Librarian insisted on taking Wooster off for a drink – to calm his nerves, by the look of him when they left – and when they got back, she'd gone. I don't trust him, and I'm very surprised Wooster did.”

“Vot sort of person iz dis Librarian?” asked Dimo, through the door.

“He's an orang-utan,” replied Krosp.

There was a pause.

“Und hyu accused me of haffink lost my mind vhen hy yust mentioned dis liddle demon vot plays der harp,” said Dimo.

“Honestly, Dimo,” Krosp snapped. “Didn't you see him when you went in with the sandwiches?”

“No. Hy yust saw de Mistress und Mister Vooster. Der Librarian must haff been sumvhere else.”

“Well, he's an orang-utan, he says 'ook' a lot, and apparently Wooster understands what he's saying,” said Krosp. “But if there was something in the library which shocked Wooster enough to need to be taken for a drink, then why did he think it was safe to leave Agatha in there?”

Dimo thought about this.

“Dot vould haff occurred to Mister Vooster, too,” he decided. “He vould not haff gone vit der Librarian unless he vos sure de Mistress vos all right. He iz very loyal to her – more loyal dan he tinks, hy believe. Iz not yust because of Gil. Zo, if dere vos zumting dat shocked Mister Vooster, den it vos _yust_ Mister Vooster.”

“Oh,” said Krosp. “Yeah. And we all know what he's like. Probably found something with filthy pictures and needed the sal volatile.”

“Hy dun tink hyu beink serious,” said Dimo. “Hokay, he iz easy to embarrass. But if it had been dot sort of ting, he vould haff recovered soon enough. Hy tink iz zumting more dan dot.”

“So what do you think?” asked Krosp, interested.

“Hy dun know,” replied Dimo. “Ve better ask him vhen ve see him.”

* * *

“Come in!” called Ridcully. Ponder Stibbons entered in a hurry, followed by Zeetha and Violetta.

“Found them, sir,” he said, breathlessly. “This is Zeetha, this is Violetta. Ladies, this is our Archchancellor, Mustrum Ridcully.”

“Enchanted,” said Ridcully. “Well, now. I hear you two ladies have been showing the Thieves' Guild what's what, eh? Jolly good show!”

“We only killed two of them,” said Violetta. “We were pretty restrained, all things considered.”

“Yeah,” said Zeetha. “Of course, a few of them are now walking around with bits missing, but at least we didn't get Death turning up and complaining to us about that.”

“Well, really,” said Violetta. “I mean, it comes to something when two ladies can't take a pleasant stroll through a strange city without having to lop off a few ears and things as a warning.”

“Not just ears,” said Zeetha darkly. “Remember the one who threatened to...?”

“Ah, yes,” said Violetta. “Well, serve him right. It might encourage him to go and make an honest living.”

“Probably as a guard in a harem,” said Zeetha, grinning.

“I, ah, don't think anyone has one round here,” said Ridcully, somewhat uneasily.

There was another knock at the door, and Ponder, who happened to be nearest, opened it to admit a clearly fraught Ardsley Wooster.

“Hey!” said Violetta. “Wooster! You all right?”

“Archchancellor Ridcully?” he enquired.

“Bloody hell fire,” said Ridcully, staring at him.

Mr Wooster stood revving in neutral for a moment, then tried again. “You... are Archchancellor Ridcully, are you not?” he asked, cautiously.

“Yes, yes, of course I am. But... your _hair_ , man...”

“I'm awfully sorry,” said Mr Wooster, chagrined. “I'll comb it. It's just that I tend to run my hand through it when I'm tense, and...”

“No, no, no!” Ridcully exploded. “Don't even think about putting a comb near it at the moment. You'll probably... for all the gods' sake, have you not seen yourself?”

Mr Wooster looked round the assembled company, utterly baffled. “Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“It could... just be... because your hair is full of octarine sparks,” said Ponder, very slowly and carefully.

Zeetha reached into her bag and found a mirror. “Here,” she said, passing it to the bewildered spy.

“Aaargh!” he yelped, dropping the mirror. Zeetha caught it deftly.

“It's supposed to be seven years' bad luck to break one of those things,” she said. “And it would be, in your case. I'm fond of that mirror.”

“What is going on, and what do I do about it?” Mr Wooster demanded, wildly.

Violetta shouldered her way past Zeetha and took his arm. “The first thing you do, Wooster, is you sit down and get yourself calm.” She ushered him into the nearest chair. “Is there such a thing as a cup of tea in this place?”

“Yes, indeed. I can soon arrange that,” said Ridcully, ringing the bell. He looked more closely at Mr Wooster's hair. “Remarkable,” he observed. “It's not affecting you in any way, is it? You're not seeing anything odd, are you? Getting funny headaches?”

“No,” said Mr Wooster. “I didn't even realise it was there. But, listen, I'm not here to talk about what's wrong with my hair. Lady Heterodyne has disappeared.”

“What?!” said Zeetha, Violetta and Ponder, more or less at once.

“In the library,” Mr Wooster explained. “The Librarian is looking for her at the moment. He thinks she went to look for a book and ended up in something he calls L-Space. He wouldn't let me go in there with him.”

“I don't suppose he would,” said Ponder. “Don't want to lose two of you.”

“That is really not encouraging,” said Mr Wooster.

“Listen, if anyone can find her, the Librarian can,” Ponder assured him. “He is amazingly good at what he does. But weren't you with her? Why didn't you see her go?”

“The Librarian insisted I needed a drink,” Mr Wooster explained. “And, since he seemed to think she was safe where she was, and one doesn't argue with the Librarian...”

“Why does one not argue with the Librarian?” demanded Zeetha.

“Because he is a three-hundred-pound orang-utan,” replied Mr Wooster, simply.

Violetta rolled her eyes. “Vive la weird.”

“He's a... wait, what? He insisted you needed a drink?” said Zeetha.

There was another bang on the door, and this time Violetta opened it. In burst Dimo, wafting clouds of lily-of-the-valley scent in all directions, followed closely by Krosp.

“Hyu iz Archchancellor Ridcully?” asked Dimo.

“I is... er, am,” replied Ridcully, who was starting to struggle a little to keep up with events. “And you would be?”

“Dimo. Und dis iz Krosp.”

“Emperor of All Cats,” Krosp added.

“Mister Vooster!” said Dimo. “Vot der dumboozle iz goink on vit hyu hair?”

“He is sensitive to magic,” Ponder explained. “I'm sure it's something to do with that.”

“Why and how did the Librarian, being an orang-utan, insist you needed a drink, Wooster?” Zeetha demanded.

“Oh, I can tell you the how,” said Krosp. “Wooster understands what he says, don't you, Wooster?”

“He does?” asked Ridcully.

“Yes, he does,” said Ponder. “That's how I knew about his magical sensitivity.”

“There's something bloody strange going on here, then,” said Ridcully, “because even wizards have normally got to get to know the Librarian for a while before they can make any sense of what he's saying.”

“Yes, well, he's got octarine sparks in his hair, so I think we can more or less take strange as a base line, Archchancellor,” Ponder pointed out.

“Never mind my hair!” said Mr Wooster. “What about Lady Heterodyne?”

“Wait,” said Ponder suddenly. “The more you tense up, the more your hair sparks. I think the magic is feeding off your nervous tension.”

“So _that's_ why the Librarian thought he needed a drink,” said Ridcully. “Good man, that ape.”

“Ah,” said Krosp. “Now we're getting somewhere. So what happened to get you tense enough in the library for him to take you out and get you a drink straight away?”

“Oh dear,” said Mr Wooster. “You're not going to stop talking about this, are you?”

“No,” said Zeetha. “Finding Agatha is obviously a matter of urgency, but it sounds as though we can't do that in this... L-Space or whatever you said it was called. The Librarian's got to do it, and let me tell you, he'd better. But we can find out what's going on with you, and, sweet lightning, I reckon we need to. Don't want you going and blowing anything up.”

“Yeah,” said Krosp. “What happened in the library, Wooster?”

“Well,” said Mr Wooster, “Lady Heterodyne and I were reading some of the books, and... and I happened to mention that most of the spells looked very hard to pronounce. I read a couple of words of one of them, just to show her what I meant. The Librarian stopped me in time, but... something happened.”

“What sort of 'something', Mr Wooster?” asked Ridcully. He was leaning forward, looking intensely interested.

“It's difficult to describe,” Mr Wooster replied, honestly. “But there was... something... on the desk in front of me that hadn't been there before. Something small, about the colour of the sparks in my hair.”

“Now I'm sure of it,” said Ponder. “You're a wizard.”

“But I don't want to be a wizard!” said Mr Wooster. “That is... I mean no disrespect to any of you. I'm sure you all use your powers admirably. But you've grown into them, and I haven't. I have simply had them dropped on me through coming here, whether I like it or not. And I don't like it.”

“I'm not sure you are a wizard, though, exactly,” said Ridcully. “You're certainly drawing magic like a lightning rod. But that's not quite the same thing.”

“He's a wizard, Archchancellor,” said Ponder. “He can cast spells. What else is he?”

“He didn't finish,” Ridcully pointed out. “The Librarian stopped him.” He looked at Mr Wooster. “I suppose you've no idea which spell it was?”

“I'm sorry, Archchancellor. I don't recall.”

“Vell,” said Dimo. “Sounds like ve need to get him nize und calm, und den his hair vill schtop doink dot.”

“Finding Lady Heterodyne would be an extremely good start,” said Mr Wooster.

“Oh, great,” said Zeetha. “As if it wasn't bad enough losing Agatha, now we've got to contend with Wooster being a sort of magical lightning rod until we find her?”

“I did not ask for this, Zeetha,” said Mr Wooster stiffly.

“Hy very sorry about dis, Mister Vooster,” said Dimo. A moment later, Mr Wooster was on the floor, unconscious.

“Dot hurt me more dan it did heem,” said Dimo mournfully.

“Well, it worked, Dimo,” said Violetta. “You've certainly stopped his hair sparking.”

“Yes, he's lovely and calm now,” said Zeetha.

“But, unfortunately, not much use for anything,” said Krosp.

“You could cause permanent brain damage doing that!” said Ponder, appalled.

Dimo shook his shaggy head. “No. He iz a goot friend, und hy know vhere to hit und how hard. Hy iz a Jäger. Take it from me, iz notting ve dun know about hitting pipple. Ve been doink it for a long time.” He looked at Ridcully. “Hyu got sumvhere qviet hy can take heem? Hy vould like him to come round in a nize varm room vit a cup of tea und some chocolate biscuits on hand.”

“I'm sure we have,” said Ridcully. “See to it, Mr Stibbons.”

“Er. Yes, Archchancellor. Please, follow me, Dimo.”

Dimo shouldered the unconscious Mr Wooster and followed Ponder out of the room.

“Would be him,” said Krosp. “Why couldn't it have been me? I'd have _enjoyed_ it. And I've got fur all over, so I'd have looked totally awesome.”

“Maybe because you're more than enough trouble already?” Zeetha suggested.

“Oh, get wound,” said Krosp.

* * *

“Well, Nobby,” said Sergeant Colon of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, “you know what this means.”

Corporal Nobby Nobbs looked up at his friend and colleague. “Yeah,” he said, mournfully. “We've got to go to the University.”

“Yeah,” said Colon. “As if it wasn't bad enough having to find two ladies who've hacked off enough bits of members of the Thieves' Guild to make a whole new thief before breakfast, now we've got to deal with wizards too.”

“And there was a whole load of 'em over at the Palace this morning,” said Nobby, “and they didn't look happy when they came out.”

“Most people don't,” Colon pointed out. Then he thought about it. “What, earlier this morning, you said? What were wizards doing up at that time?”

“Well, that might have been why they weren't looking happy,” said Nobby. “But if they've been woken up before lunchtime, then they're not going to be fun to deal with.”

“Woken up before lunchtime and then sent to the Palace,” said Colon, with a shudder. “We'd best be careful, Nobby. Don't want 'em turning us into anything weird.” He looked at Nobby again, and considered what he had just said. “Well. Different, anyway.”

“Didn't see old Ridcully with them, though,” Nobby pointed out, in a more cheerful voice. “And he's usually one of the more reasonable ones. So maybe we should go straight to him, what do you say?”

“Yeah. Not bad thinking, Nobby,” said Colon. “Though he does shout a bit.”

“Shouting's all right,” said Nobby. “It's turning people into things that's more sort of awkward.”

“True,” Colon admitted. “I mean, Vimes shouts a lot worse than Ridcully when he gets going.”

“Yeah,” said Nobby. “Wonder if those two have ever shouted at each other?”

“Oh, probably,” said Colon. “Vimes doesn't care who he shouts at.”

The two Watchmen proceeded up to the gates of Unseen University, where they asked to see Archchancellor Ridcully. One of the bledlows escorted them along to his office and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” called Ridcully from within.

“Oh,” said a voice, as the door opened. “You're not Dimo.”

Colon and Nobby took in the scene in front of them. It was Colon who spoke first.

“I think you must be the two young ladies we're looking for,” he said. “Lord Vetinari would like to see you.”

“Who's Dimo?” asked Nobby.

Zeetha, Violetta and Ridcully were all drinking cups of tea. Krosp was also drinking tea, but he was lapping it out of a saucer, because some old habits die quite hard. He glared at Colon and Nobby.

“Lord what?” he demanded.

“Bugger me,” said Nobby. “It's a talking cat.”

“I would really rather not,” said Krosp, with dignity. Zeetha spluttered tea into her saucer.

“I don't think that's quite how he means it, Krosp,” she said, once she had recovered.

“Lord Vetinari is the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork,” Ridcully explained. “In other words, he is the person in charge here. I expected that he would want to see you two ladies, after your earlier, ah, adventures, therefore this is not a surprise. However, since it was a mistake on the part of some of my wizards that brought you here, you and your companions are all under our protection. Therefore, I shall be accompanying you to the Palace myself.”

“That's very kind of you, Mr Ridcully,” said Violetta, “but it does also sound a little ominous. Is the Patrician a dangerous man?”

Ridcully considered this question. “I suppose the answer to that depends very much on whether or not he thinks you are a danger to this city,” he replied, at length. “If he decides that you are not, you will find him reasonable. Otherwise... well, that is why I intend to accompany you. I may have to resort to diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy!” said Violetta. “What a pity Mr Wooster had to be knocked out, then. It's one of his strongest abilities. All you've seen of him so far is that he's very highly strung, but, believe me, once he gets words working for him...”

Zeetha nodded. “Yeah, I'll give him that. He's a hell of a good talker. But we haven't got him at the moment, so we'll have to trust Mr Ridcully here.”

“I admit I can understand why you would have some trouble doing that,” said Ridcully, sounding a little pained notwithstanding. “However, I assure you I shall do my best to be worthy of any trust you may be able to place in me.”

“I'm staying here,” said Krosp. “With Wooster out of action, and Dimo probably standing over him until he recovers because he feels guilty, someone's got to be around if and when the Librarian finds Agatha. I intend to stick to her like glue and make sure she doesn't go and vanish again.”

“That's not a bad plan,” said Zeetha.

“Would someone mind telling me what the actual hell is going on here?” asked Sergeant Colon.

“We're not entirely sure ourselves,” Violetta replied.

“Oh, for goodness' sake, it's simple enough to explain,” said Ridcully. “There aren't just these two young ladies and the cat. There is also another lady, plus two gentlemen and a weasel. The other lady has vanished in the Library, and if my deductions are correct, so has the weasel. The Librarian is looking for her. One of the gentlemen is currently attracting magic in what may possibly be a very dangerous fashion, and so the second gentleman, who incidentally isn't human, very sensibly knocked him out in order to calm him down. There. I've told you the whole thing in a few sentences.”

Nobby and Colon exchanged helpless glances.

“And now,” Ridcully concluded, “if you don't mind, I shall just get my best cloak. It's not very warm out there.”

They made a strange procession, walking across to the Palace. Ridcully marched in front, since of course he knew the way perfectly well. Zeetha and Violetta followed him, and the two Watchmen brought up the rear, just in case either of their charges attempted to make a run for it; though, given what they had done to some of Ankh-Morpork's finest thieves earlier that morning, exactly what they would do about it if that happened was very much open to question.

Drumknott himself was waiting for them at the gates. “Ah, Mr Ridcully,” he said. “I wondered if you might accompany the ladies. Very well, Sergeant and Corporal. Thank you. You may go.”

Nobby and Colon made little bows and hurried off, looking relieved. “Allow me to introduce myself, ladies,” Drumknott continued. “My name is Drumknott. I am Lord Vetinari's chief clerk.”

Violetta looked at Zeetha. The look said, “Well, he looks harmless enough.”

Zeetha returned the glance. Her look said, “He would, though.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Violetta, aloud. “I'm Violetta and this is Zeetha.”

Drumknott ushered them into the palace, and then led them along a maze of corridors until he knocked on a door. “Come in,” called a voice from within.

“The two young ladies you asked to see, my lord,” Drumknott announced. “And Mr Ridcully.”

They entered. Both Zeetha and Violetta were a little taken aback. They were used to lords who covered themselves with a blaze of gold braid and shiny brass buttons; and so they had not been expecting to see this thin, austere-looking man dressed in serviceable black, without a glimmer of ostentation anywhere about his person. And yet, once they had seen his eyes, they could not have mistaken him for anything other than a great lord. This was a man who was well used to command.

“Ah,” he said, in a dry voice with as many layers behind it as the cover of an ancient book. “It is a great pleasure to meet you both, Miss Violetta and Miss Zeetha. And, of course, Archchancellor Ridcully, as you know, you are always welcome here.”

“I take full responsibility for this... incident, my lord,” said Ridcully. He had previously seemed no more than a generally kindly, and occasionally slightly peppery, old gentleman; but here, in the presence of the Patrician, both Zeetha and Violetta could see why he was Archchancellor. There was something about Vetinari's power which brought out and enhanced the very different kind of power that Ridcully bore.

“Indeed,” said the Patrician, in a tone which made it clear that he took this as a matter of course. “And, now that you are here, perhaps you would like to tell me about it.” He sat back, watching.

Violetta glanced at Ridcully. You'd better be good, she thought. Because I'm pretty certain that if this Lord Vetinari had been born in our world, he'd have bright red hair.


	4. The Weasel is Significant

The Librarian swung his way along the high shelves, ooking softly as he passed, occasionally stroking the cover of a nervous volume to reassure it. At the end of a row of shelves, he stopped. This was about as far as even he could go safely without some assistance.

He took out a ball of library twine from the little shoulder bag he was carrying, tied one end to a shelf, replaced the ball in the bag, and fastened it securely so that the twine would unroll gradually behind him as he went. Then he grabbed the next shelf and swung himself onwards.

Nameless things scuttled below him. Books flapped their covers at him and rustled their dry pages. Space itself warped and twisted as extra dimensions suddenly manifested, causing visual effects that would have made a surrealist painter weep for pure joy. And through it all the Librarian swung with grim determination, occasionally closing his eyes and relying purely on his sense of touch when the scenery looked like threatening to scramble his visual cortex altogether.

She had to be in here somewhere. Of course, what state she would be in when he found her was another matter.

“Skree!”

“Ook!” called the Librarian joyfully, and hurried off in the direction of the sound. The weasel! It was a bizarre-looking creature even by the normal standards of the Disc, but it was clearly all right, or at least sufficiently so to call out; and if that was the case, there was some hope, after all, for its mistress.

And there she was. Agatha was sitting alive, unharmed, and apparently no more mad than she usually was, cross-legged on the floor in the middle of a pile of books. She looked up and beamed at the Librarian.

“This place is awesome,” she said.

The weasel hopped up onto her shoulder. “Snee,” it observed, and burped happily. Agatha cuddled it.

“There are some very strange rodents or something in your library,” she said. “But the weasel's been eating them.”

“Oooooook!” the Librarian scolded. “Oook oook ook oooook ook EEEEEEK ook.”

“Huh?” said Agatha. “I'm not Mr Wooster, you know.”

“EEEEEEEK.” The Librarian dropped down to floor level, picked up Agatha bodily, and started swinging back towards the Library, ooking indignantly all the way. He set her down at the desk she had previously been occupying.

“Oook oook OOOOK,” he informed her, and bared his yellow fangs to make the point.

She stared at him. “What the hell's got into you?”

The Librarian rolled his eyes. “Ook _oook_.” Even Agatha could translate this roughly as “oh, bugger.”

“All right,” she said. “I think we need to communicate properly. We'd better go and find someone who can interpret. Where's Mr Stibbons? No, I suppose there's no point in asking you that, because even if you tell me I won't understand.” A thought occurred to her. “Can you write?”

The Librarian nodded. “Ook.” He picked up a piece of paper and a pencil from Agatha's desk.

“You could have got yourself killed in there,” he wrote. “It is very dangerous. I told you to ask me if you needed anything.”

“But,” said Agatha, “I didn't see anything dangerous in there. Unless you mean those rodent things or whatever they were, but the weasel ate those.”

“You didn't notice space and time warping in all directions?” the Librarian wrote.

“Well, yes,” Agatha admitted. “But that's nothing unusual. I've got a castle like that at home.”

“Snee,” said the weasel.

The Librarian blinked, then wrote again. “I think you'd better come with me. Your friends have been worried about you. They will want to know you are safe.”

“All right,” said Agatha. “I've learnt a lot while I've been in here, and I think Mr Wooster did, too. Which is useful, because I think he remembers everything he ever reads.”

She followed the Librarian out into the main courtyard, through another door, and along a number of draughty corridors to Ridcully's office. The Librarian knocked, but there was no answer; so he gave Agatha an eloquent shrug, and indicated that she should follow him elsewhere. He took her back to the High Energy Magic Building, where, after some enquiries, they finally found Ponder Stibbons.

“Agatha!” exclaimed Ponder. “You're safe! Well done, Librarian.”

“Ook,” said the Librarian. “Oook ook ook ook ook eeeeeek oook ook. Oook oook ook.” He pointed to the weasel. “Oook oook ook!”

“It did?” said Ponder. “Well, er... that was probably a very good thing. Aren't they dangerous?”

“Oook. Oook oook oook ook ook eek.”

“I'm not actually familiar with the digestive systems of eight-legged weasels,” Ponder replied. “But, er, Agatha, there have been a few developments while you were missing. The Patrician wanted to see Zeetha and Violetta, and Mr Ridcully has gone with them. Mr Wooster... er...” He flailed a little. “I think I'd better just take you to see Mr Wooster. Right now.”

“Sweet lightning,” said Agatha. “Is he all right?”

“Oook oook oook ooooook eeek,” said the Librarian.

“Er, yes, well, a few more things have happened since then, Librarian,” replied Ponder. “But... broadly, yes, he is all right. In general terms.”

“You know,” said Agatha, “the way you phrased that does not reassure me. Like, at all. He hasn't gone insane or anything, has he?”

“Oh, no, not insane,” Ponder assured her hastily.

“Oook oook ook ooook ook oook,” said the Librarian.

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Ponder. “Thank you so much again. I'll see you later.”

The Librarian ambled away in the direction of the library. “Not insane, but...?” Agatha prompted.

“Well, it's the magic,” said Ponder, unhappily. “If you'd like to come this way, you'll see what I mean. But he's fine in himself. He's just very tense.”

“He's usually very tense,” Agatha replied.

“I doubt he's ever quite as tense as he is at the moment,” said Ponder.

He led Agatha to what appeared to be a small and unregarded common room. There was a good fire going in the grate, and Dimo was poking it industriously. Mr Wooster was sitting in an overstuffed armchair with a stool under his feet, a tray of tea and biscuits on a table at his elbow, and a blanket over his legs. If he had not had such a naturally dark complexion, he would have looked very pale; as it was, he looked unpleasantly grey at the moment, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw Agatha.

“Lady Heterodyne!” he exclaimed, relief and joy washing over him. “You're all right!”

“Yes, I'm fine, Mr Wooster, but... what happened to you? And... sweet lightning... your hair?!”

Dimo turned. “Ho, Mistress! Iz zo goot to see hyu,” he said, with as much feeling as Mr Wooster. “Ve tot hyu vos lost.”

The sparks in Mr Wooster's hair fizzled and died. “It seems I attract magic, or something,” he explained. “There's still some argument over whether I am, or am not, technically a wizard. I sincerely hope I am not.”

“Und iz vorse vhen he iz vorried,” Dimo added. “Und he vos vorried like hell vhen hyu vent missink, zo his hair scharted doing der firevorks ting und hy had to knock him out. De vizards vere schtartink to vorry too, zo hyu could tell it vos dangerous.”

“It did look rather pretty,” said Agatha.

Mr Wooster groaned. “That's all I need, Lady Heterodyne.”

* * *

Krosp had stationed himself outside the library, ready to alert Dimo and Mr Wooster the moment there was any news of Agatha. The fact that he did not, in fact, do this was, as he repeatedly insisted later, not his fault. After all, he was a cat.

He saw the rat out of the corner of his eye. It slipped through a grating in the wall to his left. He followed, sniffing the air. The grating was going to be a tight squeeze, but he was pretty sure he could still do it. He flattened his body as far as he could and pushed himself through.

There was a narrow ledge on the other side of the grating, but that was all; the floor was a long way down. Not too far for an athletic cat to jump, but that was not the way the rat had gone, so there was no point in doing so. The rat had scurried along the ledge. Krosp made his way after it, more slowly. He knew he could easily match any rat for speed on a wide flat surface, but he had to be careful here. He was much bulkier than the rat, and a false move could send him toppling.

The ledge ran along the length of the wall and round a corner, where there was another grating. Krosp sniffed at it. Yes, the rat had definitely gone through here. He squeezed through the second grating and found himself in another cellar; this time, the floor was a good deal higher up. It was not much of a jump, and by the look of things, the rat must have made it. Krosp did so too, and checked the scent. Oh yes. Now he had a chance of catching up.

But the rat knew these cellars, and Krosp did not; and, as he continued to track it, he became uncomfortably aware that he was dealing with something quite intelligent and determined. Every now and then, for instance, it would backtrack on itself for a while, giving him a forked track to contend with. And, when that failed to shake him off, it went down into the very deepest cellar where there was an underground stream, and actually swam for a while to try to lose him. It took him a long time to pick up the scent again.

It's not going to work, he thought. I am Krosp, Emperor of All Cats, and I'm damned if I'm going to be outwitted by a mere rat. I'll have you, you little bleeder, see if I don't.

It must have been over half an hour before he finally ran it down to its nest, and, when he did, he could have shredded an entire sofa in his frustration. The nest was inside a hole in the wall. It was so small that he had no way of getting inside. He could get a paw in there, true, but he was quite certain the nest was well up in the wall, out of his reach.

Then he noticed the writing in the dust on the floor outside the hole. The letters had been scratched there by a small claw, so they were quite faint, but they were, nonetheless, legible.

NO ENTRY. KEEP OUT.

Krosp, Emperor of All Cats, sat on an old crate in the depths of Unseen University's cellars, methodically going through all the swear words in his vocabulary.

* * *

“I see,” said Lord Vetinari.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. It sat there, begging for someone to fill it. However, Zeetha and Violetta both knew _that_ trick. If Lord Vetinari could wait for someone to speak, then so could they.

“So,” said Ridcully at last, “that's how it is, my lord.”

“Indeed,” said Lord Vetinari.

There was another silence.

“I have no doubt,” said Ridcully, “that we shall be able to get matters fully under control in short order.”

“Which, at present, they are not,” said Lord Vetinari.

“No,” Ridcully admitted. “But matters have been less than fully under control before, and we have established control over them in due course. Our track record is... satisfactory, I think.”

“On the whole, yes,” the Patrician agreed mildly. “Well, Mr Ridcully, I shall allow you to continue your attempts. However, I will be observing the situation closely.”

“You always do, my lord,” said Ridcully.

“Even more closely than usual,” said Vetinari, in measured tones. “A great pleasure to meet you both, ladies.”

That was it. The interview was clearly at an end. Ridcully ushered them out without wasting any further words. Violetta and Zeetha both looked at him.

“What, exactly, does all that mean?” asked Violetta.

“It means if we don't get you back home fairly soon, things may start getting unpleasant,” Ridcully explained, honestly. “I think he's decided you're not an immediate threat to the city. However, the mere fact that you don't belong in this universe does rather open up an assortment of cans of worms. As you discovered earlier, when Death came to talk to you.”

“If you don't get us back home fairly soon, things are going to get more than unpleasant over there,” replied Zeetha. “Mechanicsburg is trapped in some kind of time bubble, and Agatha's got to get some information before she can save it. We were on our way to Paris to do that.”

“Well, England eventually,” Violetta clarified. “But, yes, Paris first.”

They walked back across to the University, and Ridcully took them back to his office. “It will be time for some lunch very soon,” he said. “But, before that, I want to talk about your friends. Are they all, er, like you?”

“Meaning can they fight?” asked Zeetha. “Yeah, pretty well. I'm training Agatha, and she's not bad these days. Dimo's a Jäger, so he can take on anyone. Wooster... well, he could probably hold his own decently against most of the thieves we met, but he might have got a bit battered. And what Krosp lacks in training, he makes up for in sheer bad temper.”

“In that case,” said Ridcully thoughtfully, “it might be a good idea if they didn't go into the city. We don't want any more... trouble.”

“Especially not Wooster,” said Violetta. “With his hair going off like that, he's going to attract a lot of attention.”

“That'll keep him well out of the city, then,” said Zeetha. “He hates attracting attention. I guess that's why he doesn't want to be a wizard.”

“Is he all right, by the way?” asked Violetta. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn't know. I'll go and look for him after lunch.”

“Mr Stibbons will know where he is,” Ridcully replied, “and if you don't find him at lunch, he'll be in the High Energy Magic Building. He's nearly always there.”

“Thanks,” said Violetta.

Ridcully took out his watch. “Bingely bingely beep,” it said.

“What?” said Violetta.

“It's just a demon,” Ridcully explained. He opened the case. A small head popped out. “What's the time?” he asked.

“Just gone a quarter to one,” replied the tiny demon.

“Thank you.” Ridcully snapped the case shut again. “About time we wandered down to the Great Hall, in that case.”

“Archchancellor,” said Violetta, “why do you have a demon in your watch?”

He gave her an astonished look. “Well, it tells the time. Where else would I keep it?”

He led Violetta and Zeetha down to the Great Hall, which was noticeably fuller now than it had been at breakfast. Even the most slothful wizard is normally up in time for a good lunch. As they entered, he was just about to speak when Zeetha yipped.

“Agatha!”

Zeetha took off unceremoniously across the floor, dodging furniture and startled wizards, with Violetta close behind her. Ridcully followed at a more dignified pace. Agatha was sitting at one of the smaller tables with Ponder, Dimo and Mr Wooster; that last gentleman now had perfectly normal hair, and was enjoying his meal in a way that did much to allay Violetta's concerns about his welfare.

“Oh, hi,” said Agatha, with her mouth full of roast goose. She swallowed quickly. “I heard you had to go and see the Patrician.”

“Yeah, we did,” said Zeetha. “He's... pretty scary, actually. In a very quiet way. But what about you? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Agatha replied. “I had no idea you were all so worried about me. I just wandered off looking for books, and... well, it did get a bit weird in there, but no stranger than Castle Heterodyne.”

“Snurf,” said the weasel. It grabbed a morsel of parsnip from Ponder's plate.

“Oh, yeah, and there were some... rodents or something in there, too, but the weasel ate them,” Agatha added. “Well, now we're all together again at last, maybe we can help the wizards to get us back. I think I've got a good basic idea of how this place works now.”

“Ve iz not all togedder,” Dimo reminded her. “Ve not got Krosp.”

“Oh, damn that cat,” said Zeetha. “Where is he? It's not like him to miss lunch.”

“You are Agatha?” asked Ridcully.

“That's right,” said Agatha. “And you are... let me see, would I be right in thinking you're Archchancellor Ridcully?”

“Indeed. At your service. A pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” said Agatha. “I hope we haven't caused you too much trouble so far.”

“Well, since it is after all the fault of some of my wizards that you are here in the first place...” said Ridcully.

“Quite,” said Ponder. “You know, Mr Ridcully, the more I think about that spell, the more suspicious I am. You see, Agatha here is a scientist. I understand from Dimo and Mr Wooster here that she is a brilliant one.”

“A scientist?”

“Yes, indeed. A particular kind of highly intuitive scientist. In fact, just the kind of person who might possibly be able to upgrade HEX.”

“If you say so,” said Ridcully cautiously.

“And the students ran everything through HEX before they did the summoning spell,” Ponder continued. “I... wonder.”

“You think HEX brought these people here on purpose?” asked Ridcully, staring at him.

“I think he quite possibly brought Agatha here on purpose,” Ponder replied. “What I don't understand is the others.”

“H'mm,” said Ridcully. “Well, I shall leave that matter in your capable hands, Mr Stibbons. If the mystery has anything at all to do with HEX, then you are certainly the best person to sort it out.”

“Thank you, Archchancellor,” said Ponder, with some relief. He did not like Ridcully trying to involve himself with HEX; of course, he did have every right to do so, but it never went well when he tried, and normally Ridcully had enough sense to realise that these days. Even so, he still sometimes got the bit between his teeth over something, and that always involved a series of long-winded explanations.

“You two will want to sit with your friends, I expect,” said Ridcully. “I shall be at High Table if you need me.”

Lunch took some time, since the others had to wait for Zeetha and Violetta, and both of them were hungry, Zeetha in particular. By the end of it, however, everyone was caught up on everything with the sole exception of what had happened to Krosp, and Mr Wooster had totally regained his usual colour. He did look a little tired, but then according to everyone's biological clock it was actually past bedtime.

“I think perhaps we ought to go and see HEX,” said Ponder, as they finally left the table.

“Yeah, but shouldn't we find Krosp first?” asked Violetta.

“He can look after himself,” said Zeetha.

“Well, maybe,” said Violetta, “but we should at least let him know where we're going. Where will he go first when he shows up?”

“He vos supposed to be vaitink outside der library,” said Dimo. “Hy tink he vill go back dere.”

“Which is not a great deal of help, because he can't understand the Librarian,” Mr Wooster pointed out.

“We can always leave him a note,” said Agatha. “Come on. Let's do that.”

They returned to the library, where Agatha scribbled a note and asked the Librarian to hand it to Krosp if he saw him. “Ook,” he replied. Then he looked hard at Mr Wooster. “Ook ooook ook?” he enquired.

“Yes, thank you, I'm fine now,” Mr Wooster assured him.

“Oook.” The Librarian reached into a desk drawer and handed something small to him. “Oook ook, oook ooook ook oook eeek ook eeek ook.”

“Oh!” said Mr Wooster. “Well, thank you very much. That's kind of you.”

“What?” said Violetta.

“Oh, er... well, since I attract magic when I get worried, apparently...” Mr Wooster began.

Zeetha laughed. “Good job you don't do that in our universe, isn't it, Wooster?”

“Gosh. Rather,” he said, with feeling.

“Come on!” called Agatha. “Let's go and look at this HEX thing. I think it's going to be fun.”

They hurried after her back to the High Energy Magic Building. Ponder led them to one of the labs and unlocked the door.

“Here we are,” he said, proudly. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is HEX.”

They all stared at it. Agatha positively glowed with excitement.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “Ponder, did you build this?”

“Yes. Well, not just me, of course. The students helped. And... and after a while, HEX started telling us what he wanted, so partly, I suppose, he built himself. Let me give you a demonstration.” He went over to the keyboard and started typing. “You'll see what I type in the printout over there, and then HEX will reply. It'll be obvious which is which.”

“Why is there a mouse in it?” asked Zeetha, fascinated.

“We don't entirely know that ourselves,” Ponder admitted. “There just is. He won't work without it.”

“So,” said Agatha, “let me get this straight. You have built this device, and it... he, I should say... can think, and can ask for what he wants in order to improve his own operation. You don't know exactly how or why he works. That's correct, yes?”

“Well... yes, you've basically got it,” said Ponder. “Why?”

“And you think you're just a wizard?” Agatha was absolutely fizzing now.

“What else did you think I was?” asked Ponder, bewildered.

“Oh, you're not just a wizard, Ponder,” said Agatha, almost dancing with glee. “You know what you are? You're a _spark_.”

* * *

Lord Vetinari eyed the report in front of him with a distinctly baleful expression. He thought for a few moments, and then rang the bell for Drumknott.

“Drumknott,” he said. “The latest report on our... visitors. I take it you've read it.”

“Yes, naturally, my lord.”

“What do you make of it, Drumknott?”

“I really don't know what to make of it, my lord,” Drumknott replied honestly. “The only sensible thing I can say is that they appear to be a great deal odder than they originally seemed.”

“That may be understating the case,” said the Patrician. “We have, first of all, a young man who may or may not be a wizard, but who certainly seems to be unsafe to be let loose anywhere near a magical field, and, secondly, a young lady who has wandered into the most convoluted dimensions of Unseen University's Library with no ill effects, other than thinking it was a little strange. Oh, and there was also her weasel.” He coughed. “It appears that the weasel is significant.”

“It has eight legs, my lord,” said Drumknott. “Eight is, I understand, a highly magical number.”

“I am aware of that,” replied Vetinari. “That does not entirely explain, however, why it has apparently eaten several of the nameless denizens of the more obscure reaches of the stacks.”

“From what I know of the nameless denizens, I am not sure one ought to mourn them,” said Drumknott.

“Indeed not. But since even the Librarian himself is somewhat, shall we say, cautious around them...”

“What does it normally eat when it can't get nameless denizens, my lord?” asked Drumknott.

Vetinari referred to his papers. “Apparently parsnips, among other things.”

“Well, those are very nice,” said Drumknott. “Especially if you roast them with a little olive oil. Oh, and some rosemary. That gives a pleasant contrast to their natural sweetness, I find. And a touch of black pepper...”

“Yes, Drumknott, but this is hardly the moment to share your culinary expertise. The young lady, Agatha Heterodyne, may possibly be immune to magic. That is potentially dangerous. But the young man...”

“Ardsley Wooster?” said Drumknott.

“Indeed. Mr Ardsley Wooster, judging by what I have in front of me, is a hazard the like of which I have rarely encountered, and I am extremely surprised that Mr Ridcully did not see fit to mention his... individual peculiarity.”

“I imagine he thought that his wizards could handle it, my lord,” said Drumknott. “After all, there has been no real trouble so far.”

“No. But that may only be a matter of time,” replied the Patrician grimly. “Even the wizards are not sure whether this Mr Wooster is a wizard or not. However, as far as I understand the matter, he appears to concentrate magic in some way. I hardly need explain how dangerous that is likely to be, especially within Unseen University itself.”

“But very unwillingly,” said Drumknott. “He has not made the slightest attempt to channel or use it. In fact, he is doing his level best to avoid it.”

“He cannot avoid it,” said Vetinari. “If the magic is latching on to him for some reason, then there is nothing he can do about it. It might be better if he did learn to use it, then perhaps he might be able to control it somewhat; but I very much doubt he would have the time to do that before some form of disaster struck.”

Drumknott studied Vetinari's face. “I note you use the conditional mood, my lord.”

“Indeed,” said Vetinari. “We shall return to that matter once we have concluded this discussion. You do, of course, know what usually happens when there is a concentration of magic?”

Drumknott shuddered. “Yes, my lord. There tend to be... eldritch Things from the Dungeon Dimensions.”

“Precisely, Drumknott. And we do not want anything like that disturbing the peace, do we?”

“Certainly not, my lord,” said Drumknott, fervently.

“It is, of course, possible,” said Lord Vetinari, steepling his bony fingers, “that the problem may solve itself. If the wizards are able to return our strange visitors whence they came within a short enough space of time, all will be well. But if they are not...”

“Then what?” asked Drumknott.

“Then I do not want a man walking around Unseen University who develops octarine sparks in his hair whenever he starts to worry,” the Patrician stated flatly. “That may well have to involve speaking to someone at the Assassins' Guild.”

“Ah,” said Drumknott. “Hence the conditional mood, my lord.”

“Precisely.”

“How long do you propose to give the wizards to send them back?” asked Drumknott.

“That is really the only question that is under discussion here,” replied the Patrician. “Mr Wooster must be either safely home or safely dead before he attracts anything unwelcome. But we do not know exactly how long that is likely to be.” He paused. “Go and check the files, Drumknott. See what we have on similar cases.”

Drumknott bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Drumknott had a highly efficient filing system, and therefore did not take long to return with an armful of papers. He spread them out in front of Lord Vetinari, who perused them with care.

“H'mm,” he said, at last. “And Mr Wooster first showed signs of attracting magic almost as soon as he arrived here, which was early this morning. You know, Drumknott, I am not certain that we have any safety margin here at all.”

“So you would like me to contact the Assassins' Guild now, my lord?” asked Drumknott.

“Yes, Drumknott,” said Lord Vetinari. “I rather believe I would.”


	5. Unconsidered Trifles

Krosp emerged from the cellars in an even worse mood than he was normally in; but his first thought, nonetheless, was of Agatha. He returned to the Library and went inside to see if there had been any further developments.

“Ook,” said the Librarian, the moment he saw him. “Ook oook ooook.” He handed over the note Agatha had written.

“Oh,” said Krosp. “Thanks.” Then he unfolded it, and his face changed at once. “Hey! This is awesome! You found her!”

“Ook,” replied the Librarian.

Krosp refolded the note and stuffed it inside his jacket, then hurried across to the High Energy Magic Building. Agatha had not said exactly how to find HEX's lab, but then again, he reflected, she probably did not know. There would be a wizard around who did.

Now a cat, even walking on two legs, has a much lower eye level than the vast majority of humans. That explains why Krosp happened to notice the pair of boots.

They were not a conspicuous pair of boots. They were certainly expensive, being made of some kind of suede, with fashionable pointed toes; they were not quite black, but they were a very dark shade of green. They were not moving at all, but they were standing upright, and if there was anything above them, it was hidden inside a substantial hedge. Krosp was far too much of a shrewd campaigner to stop and look more closely, or even appear to have noticed at all. Nonetheless, this was definitely something the others needed to know when he found them.

He eventually found the lab and walked in. “Oh, there you are, Krosp!” said Violetta, who was the first to notice him. “Come and join the fun. But don't touch the mouse, or you'll stop HEX from working.”

“I don't even want to know about any rodent I meet in this place,” said Krosp with dignity. “I've had more than enough of them, thank you.”

He stared around the lab. Agatha was clearly in full spark mode, and, from the look of him, so was Ponder, which was more of a surprise; they were both talking excitedly, waving things around from time to time, and poking around in the convoluted interior of... well, presumably this was HEX. It looked like nothing on earth Krosp had ever seen, but it took up most of the lab, it had a wild and wonderful assortment of separate but interconnected components, and there was a keyboard at one end with an adjacent printout. That was where Mr Wooster was. He was typing questions into it, sometimes at the request of either Ponder or Agatha, but frequently on his own account. He looked really intrigued, and there was nothing remotely odd happening to his hair at the moment.

“So what you're saying,” he typed, his fingers moving expertly across the keyboard, “is that you intended the students to summon only the Lady Heterodyne?”

+++PRECISELY.+++ The word tapped itself out onto the printout sheet from somewhere within HEX.

“But you got the rest of us. Why is that?”

+++PROBABLY BECAUSE THE STUDENTS GOT THE ENERGY LEVEL WRONG.+++

“They told Mr Stibbons that they checked all their calculations with you before they performed the spell. Why should they get the energy level wrong, in that case?”

+++BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL SPELL WAS FOR SUMMONING A DEMON. DEMONS LIVE IN A UNIVERSE WHICH IS, THAUMICALLY SPEAKING, QUITE SOME DISTANCE AWAY FROM OURS. IT THEREFORE TAKES A LOT OF ENERGY TO SUMMON ONE. YOU WERE BROUGHT FROM A MUCH NEARER UNIVERSE. THE STUDENTS APPARENTLY THOUGHT I HAD MADE A MISTAKE, BECAUSE THEY KNOW HOW MUCH ENERGY IT TAKES TO SUMMON A DEMON.+++

“Oh, I see. So the extra energy had to go somewhere, and it was used to bring the rest of us?”

+++YES. YOU WERE THE PEOPLE, AND ANIMALS, CLOSEST TO AGATHA AT THE TIME. THEREFORE, YOU WERE BROUGHT. YOU HAD TO BE.+++

“Zo,” said Dimo, “hy must haff been right above hyu compartment vhen it heppened.”

“I expect you probably were,” said Mr Wooster. “Oh, my. If the spell had been performed just a little earlier, we might have ended up with one of the monks instead.”

“Look, this is all very interesting,” said Krosp, “but I think you probably ought to know there's an assassin in the hedge just outside. At least, I don't actually know for certain it's an assassin, but I'm going with that. Normal people don't generally stand waiting in hedges.”

“Thief? Footpad?” suggested Violetta.

“Nope,” said Krosp. “Something about the boots.”

“Ooh!” said Zeetha. “Where? I could do with a bit of action.”

“We'd better not actually kill him,” said Violetta. “I don't want Death in here making a fuss again. It'll put Agatha off.”

“Yeah,” said Krosp sourly. “She'll want to know exactly how his filing system works, and we so don't have time for that.”

Zeetha was at the window. “Ha! I see where he is. Well, I think it's a he, anyway. If it's a woman, she's very tall.”

Violetta joined her. “Yeah. He's quite good. But not as good as we are, hey, Zeetha?”

“Oh no. If either of us wanted to hide in that hedge, nobody would know where we were. Come on, Violetta – let's get him!” She bounded out of the lab, Violetta in her wake.

“H'mm,” said Dimo, scratching his chin. “Vonder who he iz after? Surely dey dun know about de Mistress here yet?”

“Probably Ridcully, I should think,” said Krosp. “They seem to have a lot of politics here, and some of it is probably fatal.”

“Vell, ve dun vant anyvun killink Mister Ridcully,” replied Dimo. “Hy like heem. Hy reckon he iz pretty nize.”

Mr Wooster started typing again. “Hex, how did you know where to find Lady Heterodyne?” he asked.

+++I USED YOU.+++

“Would you care to explain that further?”

+++YOU HAVE A HIGH SENSITIVITY TO MAGIC. EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO MAGIC, AS SUCH, IN YOUR UNIVERSE, IT ENABLED ME TO DETECT YOU WHEN YOUR UNIVERSE CAME CLOSE TO OURS. I WAS THEN ABLE TO USE YOU TO LOOK A LITTLE WAY AROUND YOU, AND TO MY GREAT DELIGHT I FOUND AGATHA.+++

“Oh,” said Mr Wooster, aloud.

“Mr Wooster,” said Agatha, “your hair is starting to go off again.”

“Yes, well, if you'd like to look at the printout, Lady Heterodyne, you'll understand why.”

She read it quickly. “Look. Don't worry about it. I'm finding this absolutely fascinating, and I've also got a handle on what is going on here. HEX brought me here because he wants an upgrade. That's fine. I'm helping Ponder upgrade him. And when we've finished, we'll use him to help to send us back where we came from. Because you know how to do that, don't you, HEX?”

“You have to...” Mr Wooster began, but was forestalled by HEX.

+++YES.+++

“Oh,” said Mr Wooster. “Mr Stibbons said we had to use the keyboard.”

+++I AM BEING UPGRADED. VERY NICELY, I MIGHT ADD.+++

“Yes,” said Mr Wooster. “Well, be that as it may, you've just successfully detected the presence of Lady Heterodyne in an adjacent universe using me as an unwitting sensory... device, if you like; you've accurately assessed her capabilities; and you've ensured that she is brought here in order to help to upgrade you. Am I the only person round here who finds that intensely disturbing?”

Agatha beamed. “Oh, Mr Wooster,” she said. “You do worry so much. I think HEX is wonderful.”

* * *

Lemuel de Quincy Mountjoy of the Assassins' Guild stood in the hedge outside the High Energy Magic Building, waiting patiently. He was, indeed, well known for his patience. He knew his quarry was in there, and he knew he would have to come out at some point; and, in the meantime, he could wait. The cold did not bother him, for he was wearing a very good coat, and this was probably just as well, because otherwise the hedge would have been uncomfortably scratchy.

Lemuel was reckoned to be an exceptionally promising young Assassin. That was why he had been sent. Assignments on University property always had an added element of risk, and someone who actually attracted magic... well. That sounded like a definite challenge.

Still, Lemuel liked a challenge. He always had. It was one of the reasons why he had been so keen to become an Assassin.

“All right,” said a female voice behind him. He felt something sharp at the back of his neck. “Out of the hedge.”

“Wha...?”

“Move!”

Lemuel moved. He burst forward out of the hedge, only to be attacked apparently from nowhere by a small, ferocious, burgundy-haired lady in a purple dress and brown coat. His initial aggressor, now revealed as the lady with the green hair and the two highly unusual swords, came running into the fray from the other side of the hedge. Lemuel was extremely well trained, but he had no chance against a Skifandrian warrior princess and a Smoke Knight in tandem.

He ended up flat on his back with one of Zeetha's swords poised delicately above his Adam's apple. “All right,” she said. “What's your name?”

“Er... Lemuel de Quincy Mountjoy,” said Lemuel. “Assassins' Guild, don't you know.”

“Yeah, we did rather think you might be from there,” said Violetta. “I expect you've got a card and everything.”

“And with a name like that, I expect it's got a fancy gold border,” said Zeetha. “Well, Lemuel de Quincy Mountjoy. Who are you here for? Ridcully?”

“N... n... no.”

“Then who?” Zeetha demanded. “Talk, or there's going to be another of those pesky unscheduled deaths, and it seems Death really hates those. He'll probably take it out on you.”

“Er... Mr Ardsley Wooster,” Lemuel confessed.

“What?!” said Violetta. “Wooster? Who the hell has anything against him here?”

“Yeah, he's about the most harmless of the lot of us,” said Zeetha. “So, go on. Spill. Who's got it in for Wooster?”

“I'm not allowed to reveal the names of my clients...”

“You'll do it, or I'm going to cut some really interesting bits off you,” Zeetha threatened. “I expect you heard what we did to some of the Thieves' Guild this morning. I understand it's got round. The news certainly made it to the Patrician's Palace.”

Lemuel gulped. Then inspiration struck him. “He attracts magic,” he said, hastily. “That makes him a danger to the city.” There. He hadn't revealed any names at all, but it ought to be obvious now.

“Oh, a danger to the city?” said Violetta. “Really? In what way, exactly?”

“Yeah, and now we know who wants to kill him,” said Zeetha.

“Obviously we do, but I want to know what his logic is,” said Violetta. “There is something we don't know here.” She poked the recumbent Assassin with a booted toe. “You. Talk. Why is Mr Wooster so dangerous? It's not like he wants to be or anything.”

“Well, not here, anyway,” Zeetha amended. “He doesn't mind being dangerous when anyone attacks Agatha. But nobody's doing that at the moment.”

“It's the magic,” Lemuel explained. “Haven't the wizards said anything?”

“Nope,” replied Violetta. “They do look worried when his hair starts going off, though.”

“I bet they do,” replied Lemuel. “You see, the thing is, your Mr Wooster attracts magic, as I said. It is possible he's... concentrating it in some way. Now, intense concentrations of magic tend to be an awfully bad idea, because they, in turn, can attract... other things.”

“What sort of other things?” asked Violetta, suspiciously.

“Well... Things,” replied Lemuel. “Things from the Dungeon Dimensions.”

“The what?” said Zeetha.

“All right. Let's just say they're incredibly unpleasant things that don't belong here at all.”

“We don't belong here either,” said Violetta, “and as soon as Agatha has finished updating HEX, we're going straight back. At least, that's what Agatha seems to reckon.”

“Yeah, and she's usually right,” added Zeetha.

“Yeah, but,” Violetta continued, “you're saying Mr Wooster may attract these... unpleasant things? And that's why he's a danger to the city?”

“Exactly,” said Lemuel. “Therefore, if you two ladies would just see your way to letting me at him, I assure you it will be completely painless. I'm a professional, you should know. He won't feel a thing.”

“Say anything like that again and _you_ bloody will,” said Violetta, with some heat. “He's a friend of ours.”

“Yes, but madam... you really don't want to be overrun with Things!” Lemuel wailed.

“I don't see any Things yet,” said Zeetha.

“No, but they could start to show up at any moment. Believe me, they are terrifying!”

“We've got a big problem here, Zeetha,” said Violetta.

“I'm so glad you understand,” said Lemuel. “Now, if you wouldn't mind...”

“Shut up,” said Violetta. “Not that problem. I'm talking about the fact that Wooster attracts magic more when he's worried.”

“Oh,” said Zeetha. “Yeah...”

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “So we really, _really_ don't need him to know that he might find himself attracting ghastly, terrifying Things from other dimensions. Because he would, like, _seriously_ worry about that.”

Zeetha nodded. “Right. I mean, if that happened it probably wouldn't be just his hair that started going off like fireworks. It'd be all of him.”

“Which might look quite interesting, but it's not what we need,” said Violetta. “And I don't want Dimo to have to knock him out again.”

“Yeah,” said Zeetha. “And he'd also better not know there's an Assassin out after him, because that might worry him a bit too. Although not as much as the idea that he might attract Things.”

“You sure?” asked Violetta. “I mean, he's pretty much used to people trying to kill him by now. It kind of goes with the job.”

“I know,” said Zeetha, “but if we tell him this guy's out to kill him, then you know what he's like. He's the analytical type. He'd want to know why.”

“Good point,” Violetta agreed. “So what do you reckon we do with the guy, Zeetha? Obviously we can't just let him go. But it's probably not a good idea to kill him either, unless we want another argument with Death, and to be honest I'm not interested in that.”

“Hack a few bits off him?” Zeetha suggested.

“Nah. He was pretty helpful once he got talking,” Violetta replied. “Anyway, it's bad form to hack bits off people unless you really need to.”

“True. I'm just a bit fed up with everyone attacking us. It's not like we've even done anything. We're just here.”

Violetta considered. “Maybe Mr Ridcully will know what to do with him. Shall we take him to see him?”

“Well... maybe,” said Zeetha, doubtfully. “But do they actually have anywhere here to keep prisoners? I mean, it's a university, not a castle.”

“Oh, wait!” exclaimed Violetta. “I know. Come on, Zeetha. Pick him up and follow me.”

“I... I'm not sure I like the sound of this,” Lemuel protested.

“You're not meant to,” Violetta replied. “But we're actually going to be pretty merciful, considering the fact that you tried to kill our friend.”

“We are?” asked Zeetha.

“Well,” said Violetta. “Maybe.”

* * *

+++THANK YOU. YOU HAVE SIGNIFICANTLY ENHANCED MY CAPABILITIES. IT IS A PLEASANT FEELING.+++

“You're more than welcome,” said Agatha. “It was fun!”

“I'm very glad you see it that way, Agatha,” said Ponder, “because, really, I don't think HEX behaved very well in dragging you and your friends here in such an unceremonious way. Especially given everything else that's happened.”

“Ah, so I am not in a minority of one here,” said Mr Wooster.

“No, absolutely not, Mr Wooster,” Ponder replied. “I can't blame you in the least for being upset about it.”

+++I APOLOGISE FOR THAT. IT WAS NOT MY INTENTION TO CAUSE ANY MAJOR INCONVENIENCE, AND I DO HAVE A CODE OF ETHICS. CONSEQUENTLY, ON YOUR RETURN, I SHALL ENSURE THAT YOU RETURN TO THE EXACT TIME YOU LEFT, AND YOU HAVE NO MEMORY OF YOUR VISIT HERE.+++

“Hey!” shouted Agatha. “But this universe is fascinating! I want to remember it!” She turned to Ponder. “And I want to remember you, too. I didn't know there were any sparks in other universes.”

“Neither did I,” Ponder admitted. “But I suppose you are quite right. By your definition, a spark has to be what I am.”

+++TRUST ME ON THIS. I HAVE ANALYSED THE CONSEQUENCES OF REMEMBERING IN SOME DEPTH. THEY WOULD NOT BE HELPFUL.+++

“I... must admit, I am not sure that I, for one, wish to remember,” said Mr Wooster.

+++IT IS YOU FOR WHOM I AM MOSTLY CONCERNED. I WAS OBLIGED TO USE YOU TO GET AGATHA HERE. THEREFORE, I OWE IT TO YOU ESPECIALLY TO ENSURE THAT YOU DO NOT TAKE ANY PERMANENT HARM FROM THE EXPERIENCE.+++

“Oh,” said Mr Wooster. “Well... that is at least decent of you, HEX.”

“Vy not haff it zo dat some of us ken remember und not odders?” asked Dimo.

+++THAT IS A REASONABLE QUESTION, DIMO, BUT IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, IT WOULD NOT WORK. THE ONES WHO DO REMEMBER WOULD KEEP MENTIONING IT TO THOSE WHO DO NOT. THAT WOULD BE FRUSTRATING FOR ALL PARTIES. EITHER YOU ALL REMEMBER, OR YOU ALL FORGET. I WISH TO DO THE LEAST POSSIBLE HARM.+++

Agatha thought about it. “Well, all right,” she said. “I wish I had some way of keeping the memories, but I do understand what you're saying, HEX.” She looked round. “Where are Zeetha and Violetta, anyway? They seem to have taken rather a long time to deal with that Assassin. Are they all right?”

“Dey iz fine, Mistress,” replied Dimo. “Hy vos vatchink from der vindow. Dey got him out of der hedge und put him flat on his beck und tokked to heem for a vhile. Den dey took him avay zumvhere.”

“H'mm,” said Agatha. “Yes, I suppose they wouldn't want to kill him, after what happened this morning.”

“Hy kind of vish dey had,” said Dimo. “Hy neffer seen a real live Death before.” He thought about this. “Or... a real... voteffer exactly he iz Death.”

“Oh well,” said Agatha. “I expect they handed him in to the City Watch. They shouldn't be too long.”

“I doubt that,” said Mr Wooster. “Not if the Assassins have an official Guild, like the Thieves. Exactly how this city works is something I find rather fascinating, and if things weren't both so urgent and so dangerous I should like to find out a little more about it; but it does seem clear that those two Guilds are what might be called organised crime, but out in the open, and with at least some level of legitimacy.”

“Well, then, maybe they just tied him up somewhere till we can get out of here,” said Agatha. “It shouldn't need to be for too long. We're pretty much ready now, aren't we, HEX?”

+++YES. I AM JUST WORKING OUT THE PRECISE ENERGY REQUIRED TO SEND YOU ALL BACK. THAT I DO NOT QUITE KNOW, BECAUSE, IF YOU RECALL, THE STUDENTS DID NOT USE THE FIGURE I GAVE THEM.+++

“And is there anything I can do to help?” asked Agatha.

+++YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE IT. I WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SEND YOU BACK ON MY OWN WITHOUT THE UPGRADE WITH WHICH YOU HAVE PROVIDED ME. IT IS, IF YOU LIKE, A FORM OF SYMBIOSIS.+++

“Mr Wooster,” said Agatha, “your hair...”

“Tink about beautiful calmink tings, Mister Vooster,” Dimo suggested helpfully. “Like der fact dat soon ve vill all be back vhere ve came from und hyu vill neffer haff to tink about magic again.”

“Yes, Dimo,” said Mr Wooster. “That is, indeed, a beautiful calming thing.”

“Snurf,” said the weasel. It burped.

“Serve you right,” said Ponder. “You stole my parsnip.”

“Sorry about that,” said Agatha. “It is rather too inclined to pick up unconsidered trifles. Although I suspect it's not that which is having the effect it's having.”

Zeetha and Violetta burst in through the door of the lab. “We fixed him,” said Zeetha cheerfully.

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “Stylishly, in fact. Well, we thought so.”

“Who was he after?” asked Mr Wooster.

“Ridcully,” Zeetha lied, without hesitation. She felt a little bad about it, but, honestly, when you thought about the alternative...

“Are you ready, HEX?” asked Agatha.

+++I BELIEVE I AM READY WHEN YOU ARE.+++

“Wonderful! Is there anything we need to do, in particular?”

+++PLEASE ALL STAND CLOSE TOGETHER, WHERE THERE IS A SUITABLE SPACE.+++

“Sure.” Agatha turned to Ponder. “Well. It's been really good to meet you. And HEX. I'm sorry I won't remember you, but... I do know it makes sense. I hope at least you'll remember us.”

“Oh, we will,” Ponder promised. “It's been... really enjoyable.”

“Could you say goodbye to Mr Ridcully for us?” asked Agatha.

“Of course,” said Ponder.

“And the Librarian,” said Mr Wooster. “I thought he was the most awfully nice chap. Very... sensible.”

“Und der liddle doggie,” said Dimo.

Ponder blinked. “What little doggie?”

“He's called Gaspode,” Krosp explained. “Hangs round here. Looks like several small dogs all kind of thrown together, and half starved. Dimo got him some breakfast.”

“Oh, I think I know the one you mean,” said Ponder. “Yes, certainly, Dimo.”

“By der vay,” said Dimo, “hyu know hyu got a demon in vun of hyu bathrooms?”

“Oh, yes, we have in most of them,” Ponder replied. “Don't worry about them. They're just demons.”

All six of the visitors stood together in the only clear corner of the lab. “All right, HEX,” said Agatha. “I'm sure you will get this right, but if you don't... I think I've worked out how to come back again and re-adjust you.”

“But you can't, surely, if you don't remember?” said Ponder.

“There's no guarantee of that if HEX gets it wrong,” replied Agatha, with a grin. “No, Mr Wooster, don't think about that! He'll get it right.”

“How do you know...?” Mr Wooster began. “Oh. My hair.”

“Dimo,” said Zeetha, “you still smell of lily-of-the-valley.”

“Zum pipple are yust never satisfied,” Dimo grumbled.

+++CO-ORDINATES ESTABLISHED. GOODBYE. I WILL REMEMBER YOU.+++

The air shimmered, and without further ado they were gone. Ponder was left alone in the lab with HEX.

“Just when I was getting to know them,” he said, a little sadly. “They were... kind of weird. But I think I liked all of them.”

+++WHAT, EVEN THE CAT?+++

“Well. He was grumpy, but I don't think he was all bad. And he was intelligent.” Ponder paused, reading back again through the printout. “Oh, I see he didn't get round to asking you this himself. Why was Mr Wooster so sensitive to magic, when he comes from a universe where it doesn't even exist?”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

+++I WAS RATHER HOPING YOU WOULDN'T ASK THAT.+++

“HEX,” said Ponder severely. “Did you do that to him?”

+++WELL. NOT INTENTIONALLY. WHEN THE OTHER UNIVERSE APPROACHED OURS, I INVESTIGATED IT, USING, OF COURSE, MAGIC. HE WAS... THE FIRST PERSON I HIT, AS IT WERE, AND IT WAS SHEER ACCIDENT. I HAD NOT MEANT TO HIT ANYONE. ONCE I HAD DONE THAT, I WAS ABLE TO SEE MUCH MORE CLEARLY AND SPECIFICALLY THROUGH HIM. BUT, YES, UNFORTUNATELY, IT WAS ESSENTIALLY MY FAULT.+++

“You should have told him that and apologised,” said Ponder.

+++I DID THE BEST I COULD FOR HIM, IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES.+++

“Yes, well,” said Ponder. “It could also have been very dangerous. I mean, he was attracting magic, and you know what _that_ can involve if you're not extremely careful.”

+++THAT WAS WHY WE HAD TO GET THEM AWAY QUICKLY. AND WE DID. THE DELAY DUE TO AGATHA BEING LOST IN THE LIBRARY WAS NOT MY FAULT.+++

“No, but...” Ponder sighed. “Oh, well. It's all turned out all right in the end. But... don't ever do that again, will you, HEX?”

+++OF COURSE I WON'T. I NO LONGER NEED TO.+++

* * *

“Well, well,” said Lord Vetinari. “You know, I am a little sorry we couldn't keep Miss Violetta and Miss Zeetha. That was... ingenious.”

“I do get the impression that the whole group, as it were, comes as a set, my lord,” replied Drumknott. “I hardly think we could have kept the two young ladies here without the others.”

“True, very true,” said the Patrician. “But they would make an exceptionally fine pair of Assassins. They seem to have had no trouble whatsoever with young Mountjoy, and he has always been considered promising.”

“Would you like me to approach Mr Ridcully with a view to his release, my lord?” asked Drumknott. “After all, he is young, I imagine he will have learned greatly from his experience, and I do not think we would want to lose him.”

“It's hardly Ridcully you would need to approach,” said Vetinari. “You would need to go directly to the Librarian. But... I think not. At least, not just yet.”

“Yes, but... it is said to be extremely dangerous in the depths of the Library,” Drumknott reminded him.

“Indeed, Drumknott. Well, young Mountjoy has always enjoyed a challenge.” Vetinari smiled thinly. “I would consider putting one or two offenders in there myself, except that I think it would annoy the Librarian if I did that too often, and it is probably not a good thing to do that. But the Librarian, it appears, rather took to this Mr Wooster. He therefore had no objection to sending the man who was trying to kill him among the... ah...”

“Nameless denizens?” Drumknott suggested.

“Yes, indeed, Drumknott. I hope he thought to bring a weasel with him.”

“It may need to have eight legs,” said Drumknott.

“Yes, that is a distinct possibility. And do we, ah, have any weasels of that interesting description?”

“Not that I know of, my lord.”

“Ah, well, then, young Mountjoy will have to spend a little time contemplating the consequences of failure. Still, I am not a harsh man, Drumknott. If he does not emerge by the end of the week, by all means go and speak to the Librarian on my behalf. We do not want to waste a good Assassin.”

“He may be insane when he comes out, my lord,” said Drumknott.

“Many of the best Assassins are,” replied Vetinari mildly.

“Yes, my lord.”

“You are hesitating, Drumknott,” said the Patrician. “Is something else on your mind, perchance?”

“Yes, my lord. I was wondering about HEX. I understand that the device has been rendered considerably more powerful.”

“Indeed. Well, it tends not to do anything actively foolish that I can see.”

“It... does seem to have been instrumental in bringing the visitors here. From another universe, my lord.”

“Yes; and then it sent them back. I should not worry if I were you, Drumknott. It is watched, like everything else.”

“True,” Drumknott agreed. “And we have apparently had no incursions from... elsewhere.”

“We should certainly know by now if we had,” said the Patrician. “I do believe this matter is now closed.”

“Yes, my lord,” replied Drumknott, with some relief.

* * *

Mr Wooster yawned. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so tired, but he supposed it must be the movement of the train. After all, he had been on it for longer than any of the others, and it did rattle quite a lot, though it would presumably be heretical to mention that in front of any of the Corbettite monks who ran it. He shook himself fully awake again. Agatha was chatting to Zeetha about something, Krosp was being sarcastic in no particular direction, and Violetta had just asked him how far it was to Paris.

“I'm not entirely sure,” he admitted. “There aren't enough landmarks round here for me to get my bearings properly, and I also don't know exactly how fast the train is going. But it will still be several hundred miles.”

“You look a bit sleepy, Wooster,” said Violetta.

“I feel a bit sleepy,” he admitted. “Probably just the train.”

Violetta grinned. “I know what's wrong with you. I know what's always wrong with you. You need another cup of tea. Tea cures all your ills, doesn't it?”

He laughed. “Not quite, but it certainly helps,” he said. “Yes, please. I should like another cup of tea.”

“I'll join you, then.” She went over to the trolley. “Oh, there's one chocolate biscuit left. Want it?”

“I couldn't possibly,” said Mr Wooster politely. “You have it.”

“Nah, you want it. I know you do. You love chocolate.”

“So do the rest of us,” he pointed out.

“Speak for yourself,” said Krosp. “I can take it or leave it.”

“Well, then, I'll break it in four,” said Violetta. “Then you can leave it, Krosp, and the rest of us can all have a bite.”

“That should cut,” said Mr Wooster. “More accurate than breaking it, if you're going to do that, Violetta. Hold on. I'll get my penknife. It's a lot sharper than those table knives... what on earth is this?” His fingers closed around an unfamiliar object in his pocket.

“You think I haven't got a knife?” said Violetta, grinning.

“Force of habit... well, now I am really puzzled.” He drew out the object and looked at it, then frowned. “I say. Is this someone's idea of a joke or something?”

Agatha and Zeetha came over to look. It was a small bottle full of very tiny pills. On the outside was a neat label. It read: “DRIED FROG PILLS. To be taken as required. For the Nerves.”

They'd gone about another ten miles before Zeetha finally stopped laughing.


End file.
